


The Scale and Sword

by JUBE514



Category: Persona 3, Persona 4, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Both of these boys need a hug, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Gen, Graphic Description, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort, Investigations, Justice Arcana, Major Character Injury, Manipulation, Mentions of Suicide, Persona 3 Spoilers, Persona 5 Spoilers, Sibling Bonding, Tags to be added, Texting, Trying, lying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-09-15 12:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16933119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JUBE514/pseuds/JUBE514
Summary: Masayoshi Shido was a man who cared not for the women he slept with. He simply did what he wanted, damn the consequences. This is a fact Goro Akechi knew very well, as he was one of those aforementioned consequences.It never occurred to either of them, however, that more than one accident can happen, more than one child can come from those thoughtless nights.Ken Amada has just learned who his father is, just learned that he has a half brother.Ken Amada simply thinks it's about time for the worlds worst family reunion.





	1. Chapter 1

> _**Justice consists not in being neutral between right and wrong, but in finding out the right and upholding it, wherever found, against the wrong.** _

* * *

 

 

Akechi wasn’t in the mood for random fans.

 

He had just had his first real encounter with the students he believed to be the Phantom Thieves and it had gone disastrously. They had shied away from him, from hostile body language to dismissive words. Akechi couldn’t have done worse if he tried.

 

So now the only real thing Akechi wanted to do was to go home, trudge back to his one bedroom apartment and curl into the futon. Akechi didn’t want to have to deal with anyone else.

 

So it’s just his luck that there’s a boy near the backstage exit, about Akechi’s own age actually. The boy has light brown hair and light brown eyes, similar enough to Akechi’s own that the detective wonders if this boy also has mixed blood.

 

The boys eye’s flick to Akechi, then light up in recognition.

 

Fuck.

 

Akechi really wasn’t in the mood for random fans.

 

* * *

 

Ken had always thought he was a pure orphan, both parents deceased and happy wherever they had ended up.

 

It had taken an in depth background check to prove that thought wrong.

 

Mitsuru, before officially accepting Ken into the Shadow Operatives, had to run a background check on him. A very thorough background check. Going through each step of Ken’s hectic heartbreaking life with a careful critical eye.

 

Mother, deceased, half European. She had died via berserk persona, a terrible accident.

 

Father, unknown. Assumed deceased.

 

Mitsuru Korjio couldn’t have that in her employees files. Too many variables. Ken could have family illnesses, family money, most importantly Ken could have someone to care for him.

 

She had begun digging, sending off private investigators to find the man who was the father of Ken Amada. Who had helped bring a lovely, intelligent, diligent child into the world.

 

Turns out, the investigators brought back rumors, not a man like Mitsuru had wanted. Rumors from the old social circles Miss. Amada has run in. Rumors that Ken was born out of wedlock, and a bastard child to an up and coming politician.

 

Mitsuru thanked the investigators for their time, and decided to do some digging herself about the man who was rumored to have had a hand in the making of Ken.

 

Masayoshi Shido was a hard man to find dirt on, his loose ends seemingly all tied up nicely in bows. This man kissed babies and helped the elderly cross the street, Masayoshi Shido was a man who was always smiling for the camera, always knew the right thing to say, and always had the upper hand.

 

Mitsuru has dug deep, dug far, and found pure gold.

 

Years ago, locked away in a dusty filing cabinet that Mitsuru only had access too because she had bribed and cheated her way in here, a single piece of paper had been filed with the national census.

 

A paternity test, to be precise.

 

A paternity test that showed that one Masayoshi Shido was, in fact, the father to one Goro Akechi.

 

A paternity test with daddy’s DNA carefully printed out in black and white.

 

It had been easy enough then, to go over to the dorms Ken was living in under the pretense of talking with him about the Shadow Operatives. Mitsuru had asked to go to the bathroom, slipped into the one that housed Ken’s toiletries, and plucked a few stray hairs from his brush. Mitsuru ended that meeting about an hour later, having gone over the salary and training hours with her friend, and she had promptly gone to her labs and gave them the hair.

 

“I need a paternity test done.” She told the labs. “Can you do it?”

 

The labs said yes they could, took the papers, took the strands of light brown hair, and made a match out of it.

 

Masayoshi Shido was a man who had gotten around in his youth, had both swayed and paid for women of multiple ages. He had been very careful about it, kept the high society women on the down low. He had been nigh on meticulous.

 

Not meticulous enough, however.  

 

A few cases had crept through the cracks, most of them going nowhere due to the staggering opposition that Masayoshi Shido’s lawyers presented. There was two or three cases that paternity was proven false, only one that paternity was positive.

 

Until now, of course.

 

Mitsuru had waited till Ken was in highschool, congratulating him on his high exam scores and getting accepted on a full scholarship into Gekkoukan High. Ken was thankful to get into the prestigious high school, and had been ready to look into other schools just in case he didn’t get the scholarship he needed.

 

Mitsuru handed him the papers with the paternity test, “I’m so sorry.” she had said, “This might be crueler than simply allowing you to continue on as you have been, but it also might not be.”

 

She had left then, closed the door of those dorms she had once called home to the sound of Ken Amada’s thin fingers opening the sealed envelope.

 

\--

 

Ken had cried.

 

He’s not as alone in this world as he had thought.

 

But then he had _wept_.

 

Because now that he knows his blood is out there, going around and living so close to him, but making no effort to contact him it _hurt._ His mother had been abandoned by a man who wanted nothing to do with any child, his mother had been left to rot with a son that she had no explanation for.

 

Ken’s blood _boils_ , rages against his veins and screams out for justice, for retaliation against the man who discarded so many like trash. His persona screams in his ears, Kala-Nemi howling as it tries to emerge to enact vengeance it feels is so rightfully deserved.

 

Ken’s furious, he’s crying thick desperate tears. It feels like Shinjiro all over again, the absolute unfair _hate_ that shimmers in his chest.

 

Ken decides to do something about it, unclenches his fists, smooths out the crinkled papers in his hands, and hunts down the name on the original paternity test.

 

Ken Amada vows to find Goro Akechi.

 

Ken Amada pulls himself together, wipes the tears from his cheeks, and pins the paper to his cork board.

 

He’s got work to do.

 

* * *

 

Akechi was always wary of people who simply showed up in his life, even more way if the face was one he didn’t recognize.

 

The boy who stood at the backstage exit door was about the same height as Akechi himself, wearing a soft orange sweater. He’s blocking a quick escape, and looks like he knows exactly who Akechi is and wants to have a quick chat.

 

Akechi’s already thinking about how to escape, maybe a quick signature? A selfie? Akechi had only just recently gotten his name all over the news, just gotten that barest hint of famous. It wasn’t uncommon for people to accost him, but it wasn’t a daily occurrence by any means. Maybe this boy thought he was someone else?

 

“Akechi Goro?” He asks, and Akechi takes a single deep breath.

 

“Yes?” Akechi asks, a fake smile plastered across his face. If this is another one of his fathers cronies then he’s not going to lose any face.

 

The boy simply hands Akechi a folder.

 

It’s unusually for Akechi to get a whole file, and not just a name. A whole folder? This might be a sign that his father is trusting his more, giving him even more power in this terrible underground organization.

 

It's natural to open the folder given to him. Akechi expects to see an assassination target, a name and a reason. A location to enter the metaverse from. A picture.

 

It’s odd to see what looks to be abstract art, a series of dashes lined up in columns. It’s even _odder_ to read the text underneath and realize that these random dashes are DNA, and the paper in Akechi’s hands signal that yes, in fact, Masayoshi Shido is the father.

 

Akechi panics, his heart clenching in his chest. This can’t be happening, can’t be real, Akechi was so careful, so meticulous-

 

He reads furthur, and that panic turns to rage.

 

“What are you? A con artist?” Akechi’s tone is flat, dead. “I’m not in the mood to deal with this today-”

 

“I’m no con artist.” The boy cuts off, “My name’s Ken, Amada Ken, and according to those tests you have in your hands right now we happen to have the same dad.”

 

Akechi’s mind screams with an unknown emotion, his personas, both of them, claw at his heart. Robin Hood about the pure _insolence_ of the child in front of him, Loki about how dare this child think he can _trick them_.

 

“Leave.” Akechi says, pushing the papers back at Amada, crinkling the folders with the force of it. “If this is a joke from _father_ it is not very funny.”

 

Amada stands his ground, simply grabs onto the folder and puts himself more square in the way of the exit. Amada’s nearly the exact same height as Akechi, his hair curls in the same way. They both look similar, startlingly so, its enough for Akechi’s thoughts to skip.

 

“I’m not joking.” Amada says, deadly serious. “I’m not leaving either, you still look like you think I’m lying.”

 

“Please.” Akechi moves to get through to the exit. “I do not have time for this.”

 

Amada throws out an arm, blocking the exit solidly. “Well it just so happens that I do.”

 

Akechi opens his mouth to say something, to get this person to just leave already-

 

Amada cuts him off. “I’m not looking to get anything out of you. I’m just looking to get more information on our shared father.”

 

A pause, Akechi says nothing, eyes tight around the edges as his pent up emotions slip through his neutral mask.

 

“I am angry. I’ve only been aware of _this-_ ” Amada wiggles the folder in his hand “-for a short time. I’ve been trying to find you as soon as I read the documents, but you are, surprisingly, a hard man to find. You popped up on the news a month ago, I managed to get time off to come to Tokyo just this week. I’m just here to inform you that I’m going to drag our shared _associates_ name through the mud and back for abandoning my mother.”

 

Akechi knows better than this, knows that this is just a ploy by his father to test his will, his dedication. But it sounds so nice. It sounds like an actual dream come true. It too good, actually, it was posed just right enough that Akechi knew it was fake. This was a ploy. It had to be his father testing him. What was the right thing to do? Tell the imposter to fuck off? Try to reason with him not to go after Shido?

 

Akechi knows that he’ll be the one to take down that bastard of a man, knows that it’ll be him that comes out on top of this fight. Akechi won’t let this fucking no name child come up out of nowhere and usurp him, to sneak right around and stab Shido between the ribs in a move unseen by everyone playing this game. Akechi makes a decision.

 

“Well, if you have nothing to share with me,” Amada lets his hand fall, opening the exit up, and begins to move. “Have a wonderful afternoon, Akechi.”

 

Akechi finds his tongue. “Wait.”

 

Amada halts his movements, his face infuriatingly hard to read.

 

“I can share with you information on our shared associate. I won’t share it for free, however. I request that for everything I share you give me something about yourself at equal value.”  

 

Amada smiles, Akechi feels like he’s both lost and won something. Amada isn’t like dealing with an adult who’s underestimating him, nor like dealing with the other simpletons Akechi’s own age.

 

“Let’s discuss this more over a meal, my treat.” Amada’s smile is perfectly fake as he happily tilts his head.

 

The smile looks sickeningly like Akechi’s own.

 

—

 

Akechi immediately tests the limits of what he can get away with.

 

He asks for sushi, suggests a nicer restaurant. Akechi likes sushi, always tries to get Sae to order it in the office for late nights. She usually just told him to go the vending machine, it was only a few select times that he managed to get food out of his supervisors.

 

It doesn't take very long at all for the two of them to get to the restaurant, the walk quick enough during the working hours. The whole walk the two of them didn’t talk much, allowing them both to take in the other.

 

Amada’s hair was shorter than Akechi’s, curled up more at the ends. Akechi couldn’t tell who was taller, but they both had good posture. Akechi found the similarities in them easily enough, their noses, the shape of their eyes. They would easily pass as brothers.

 

The restaurant wasn’t too busy this time of day, so they got a seat pretty immediately.

 

“Do you want to exchange information now, or wait until the food arrives and peddle through smalltalk in the meantime?” Ken’s smiling again, looking over the menu and at Akechi.

 

“I’ve never been good at smalltalk.” Akechi acknowledges.

 

“I would like to know exactly how deep our shared associates network in politics goes, if you do know that.”

 

Akechi takes a deep breath, he’s not willing to give that up so easily to an unknown. “How about I start with the questions? Ease into this instead of jumping into the deep end?”

 

“Oh?” Amada’s face is carefully neutral, and now Akechi knows why the police officers who work with him hate to work with him. “I would be amenable to that.”

 

“Where did you get these papers?”

 

Amada smiles now, “I have a good friend who gave them to me, she was looking into my family as a background for my job.”

 

Akechi hums, “Your job?”

 

“My turn to ask the question, Goro-nii.” Amada’s smile turns sharp, and Akechi knows now that this game will get interesting.  “I would like to know if there’s any other siblings wandering around that you know of.”

 

“No, before you showed up I hadn’t even considered the possibility.”

 

The initial drinks arrive, the waitress placing a water down for both of them. She looks between them both, and smiles. “It’s rare to see twins! What can I get for you today?”

 

The two of them order, not bothering to correct the woman on her mistake. Akechi doesn't want to make a scene, he’s not sure why Amada doesn't say something.

 

“My turn for questioning?” Akechi asks as soon as the waitress leaves with their orders. “I want to know why you came to me, and not directly going to our shared associate.”

 

“My friend, the one who got these documents, encouraged me not to, she’s been in direct contact with him before and has been incredibly supportive of me as I’ve looking into this endeavor.”

 

Akechi now has a more holistic picture of Ken Amada. The only people who interacted with their (supposedly) shared father were people of great influence. To get the documents would have been a struggle, but to actually talk with the man would be an entirely new kind of ball game. Akechi could easily enough search around for the people who interacted and then disagreed with his father, even easier now that he knows that the ‘friend’ of Amada is female.

 

“Do you and him talk often?”

 

Akechi thinks for a moment, and decided to stick as close to the truth as possible. “Not often at all, he usually only contacts me when he wants something from me.”

 

Amada hums an answer, and the lunch continues.

 

* * *

 

By the end of it neither party had truly gotten what they wanted, but hadn’t gotten nothing out of the deal either.

 

Ken had gotten Akechi to call him by his first name by insisting on it, telling Akechi that nearly none of the people around him called him ‘Amada’. Akechi had not gotten Ken to call him anything but ‘Goro-nii’, Ken smiling every time he says it because Akechi must have reacted to it the first time.

 

They had learned more about each other, both honor students, both highly active in their school. Both born in June even.

 

Both absolute smart-asses.

 

The whole lunch was a passive aggressive mess. The two of them would pick apart each others words, their posture. Akechi thought he had the upper hand for it to be yanked out from underneath him in the next instant.

 

It was an amazing amount of fun.

 

The amount of snark between the two of them was nigh unreal, Akechi not used to be able to fully just unleash the emotions he usually hides. Amada, Ken, gave back as good as he got. Akechi wasn't careful, didn’t pull his punches, he didn’t need to impress Ken, didn’t need Ken on his side. Ken simply slammed back everything Akechi gave.

 

It got to the point that the conversation swayed into other topics, but Akechi didn't even mind the change.

 

Akechi was … almost not looking forward to Ken leaving.

 

Ken, however, lived outside of Tokyo. If he was telling the truth he went to Gekkoukan High, lived in the dorms there. He was only in Tokyo for the day, having gotten express permission to do this instead of his class trip.

 

Ken had handed over his phone number, giving Akechi his phone to input his contact. Akechi had allowed Ken to do the same, both boys watching their phones like hawks as the other handled the devices.

 

Akechi got an immediate text message, simply with a cordial hello.

 

They both pause outside the door.

 

Goodbyes are always awkward, halting and unsure. Akechi’s still not wholly on board this train, has to check with his father and tell him to knock this cruel joke off. Ken would be a person that Akechi could see himself being friends with, but the situation was too wildly out of his own control. Ken could ruin both Akechi and his father, all with a simple word, a rumor. Akechi and Shido were connected by an official paper, approved in the court system, Ken was connected via a private line that was much easier to erase.  It was a position that needed to be rectified. Akechi needed something on Ken to even the playing field.

 

“I’ll text you?” Ken says his voice trailing up in a question.

 

Akechi looks over, glancing at Ken and just seeing himself.

 

The way Ken’s falling back in his sweater, averting his eyes and hiding in his long bangs. Akechi simply sees a younger version of himself in the street beside him, standing carefully waiting for the verdict of his life after his mother’s untimely death.

 

Fuck.

 

Either Ken was the best actor in the world, and Akechi would kill his father slowly and painfully for this, or Ken wasn’t lying about anything.

 

 _That_ was a terrifying thought.

 

“Yeah.” Akechi agrees, “I’d love to get to know my little brother more.”

 

Ken’s cheeks turn a bright ruddy red, the first real careful smile slowly spreading across his face.

 

Akechi knows now, that however this turned out, it would be interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

 

> _**"Many that live deserve death. And some die that deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then be not too eager to deal out death in the name of justice, fearing for your own safety. Even the wise cannot see all ends."** _

 

* * *

 

The first thing Akechi does is start the research on Ken Amada.

 

The first couple of articles on google simply are of another person entirely, who’s name is spelt slightly differently. Akechi has to put Ken’s name in quotation marks, searching specifically for the person he wanted.

 

Ken’s name pulls up several articles from a local newspaper on Gekkoukan High, two articles speaking highly of the soccer team and the academic accomplishments. Ken was mentioned as both a star player and star student, pictures of Ken playing soccer with his team, a picture of Ken and a few other students straight backed in front of the school with the caption ‘hardworking honor students’.

 

A little more digging and an article describing a terrible accident with a drunken driver destroying a home, killing a woman protecting her son from the collapsing beams. Ken Amada was the only survivor, traumatized by the death of his only living relative.

 

Well fuck. Akechi narrows his eyes. This was too close to his own story for him to be comfortable. It’s almost feels like this had been planned, someone had carefully made the same character in a story but the characters somehow had split and became two.

 

He’s going to have to do more research on his own, so he needs to get in contact with his own people, people his father has no real influence over.

 

The first step is to actually confirm those papers, their relation.

 

Akechi had gone back into the restaurant after Ken and him had parted ways, flashed the detective badge, and got the cup that Ken had used. Akechi’s case always has a few things slipped away from forensics to gather evidence. It’s easy to seal the cup away as evidence and convince himself that this is just another case.

 

Akechi knows that this will be hard to spin, to get under his father's nose, but Akechi’s not one to back down from a challenge and this one he feels will be particularly rewarding.

 

He’s already been cleared to not return to school for today, so he simply goes to the police station.

 

The nice secretary lets him in with a smile, telling Akechi that she had watched his appearance on TV and was very proud of him. The secretary is older, and hands Akechi a hard candy as he passes.

 

Akechi unwraps the candy as he presses the button on the elevator to go down to the forensics labs, swiping his ID to get access to those levels.

 

There’s only one person in forensics that Akechi can trust wholly, the one person that Akechi knows will only give the facts, give the truth.

 

Akechi knows him from his mentor, he had been shadowing another detective for awhile and the older detective had given him sage advice, she had told Akechi to always be sure that his forensic team was trustworthy and good, because they could make or break a case.

 

Naoto Shirogane had taken Akechi to her friend in the forensic department, Yosuke Hanamura, and told Akechi that if he couldn’t trust the people giving him information then his worth as detective was _nothing_.

 

Hanamura was usually found in the fingerprinting lab, testing how fingerprinting interacted with fabrics.

 

Akechi finds him there today, Hanamura going through and collecting data for his doctorate thesis like he was always doing these days. The smell of chemicals when Akechi opens the door was nearly deafening.

 

“Hello Hanamura.” Akechi greets, standing by the open door. “Mind if I snag you for a minute? I need a DNA test.”

 

Hanamura startles at his name, slipping off his headphones and looking wildly around for a second. “Oh, sup Akechi. Yeah I have a few, I can help.”

 

Hanamura rips a post it note and quickly writes out that he’ll be back and to not touch the machines four, five, and six. The door to the fingerprinting room was propped open, to try and wash out the smell of chemicals, with a door-jam that wasn’t really meant to ever be a door-jam but had somehow found itself as one.

 

Hanamura was nice enough to talk with, chatty in a way that wasn’t annoying just simply there to fill up the white noise. Hanamura talked about his day, talked about how he was so close to being able to get fingerprints off of fabrics that were worn for about a day afterwards through high activity. Akechi didn’t know the whole story, but he had overheard enough conversations between Shirogane and Hanamura to know that there was a man in jail only there on confession alone, and this could be a huge breakthrough in the case against him.

 

The DNA lab was huge, Hanamura had to swipe his ID to open the door for them both.

 

There was a few machines running, one other forensic scientist there, waiting on their results.

 

They politely greet each other, but Hanamura gets to work fast.

 

“What kind of test we running here? Simple match?” Hanamura’s pulling on new gloves now, ones not stained suspiciously blue.

 

“I need to know if these two samples are related.” Akechi puts his case on the sterile table --ignoring the wince from both of the forensic scientists in the room-- and flips it open. He pulls out the cup from the restaurant, sealed in an evidence bag, and another much smaller bag filled with a few of Akechi’s own hairs.

 

“Oh, fun.” Hanamura takes the two, looking between them both. “Trying to prove if they’re really the father hm?” He laughs, snorting at his own poor joke.

 

“I believe I’m trying to prove if these two are half brothers.”

 

Hanamura’s eyebrow ticks up as he looks at the evidence given to him. “That’s an interesting relation, what case is this for? The one that happened a week ago with the almonds?”

 

“It’s not any case, call it a hunch.” Akechi knows of the case that came in a week ago with the almonds, it was a weird case.

 

“ _Interesting_.” Hanamura says, and starts to collect the spit samples from the cup. “I can have this to you by midday tomorrow, do you want to come into the shop and grab it yourself or do you want me to text it to you?”

 

“I’ll come in and handle it myself, thank you.” Akechi watches as Hanamura works for another few minutes before leaving the lab altogether.

 

* * *

 

Akechi’s was sitting in class, waiting for the lunch bell to ring. Akechi didn’t have his own packed lunch, but he had enough money to wiggle a decent meal from the cafeteria.

 

Akechi felt his phone buzz in his back pocket, his phone getting a text.

 

It was either Ken sending another picture of that dog of his-

 

( _His name is Koromaru and he’s very happy that I’m home!_ )

 

-or it could be Hanamura sending him the results.

 

All day Ken had been texting Akechi about various things. Akechi had been sneaking his own various messages out during the day, whenever a teacher called him out on it Akechi just claimed it was police business.  Ken would send pictures of the frankly adorable shiba dog that apparently just wandered around with him, or talk about how the teachers were droning on. Akechi would respond with pictures snaped of various K9 units that were in the police department, talk about his own day and school.

 

Akechi flips out his phone, ignoring the teacher’s slight hesitation at the sight of a student being so openly defiant, and checks who sent him the text.

 

It was Hanamura, saying he had gotten those test results.

 

Akechi takes a deep breath, the slow warmth of happiness bubbling up inside his chest.

 

The lunch bell rings, the student’s jumping up to get their food. Akechi himself moves quickly, wiggling through the crowds to get out of the school. Akechi uses the money he would have used for lunch on a taxi to get to the police headquarters. He texts Hanamura that he’s on his way and would be there soon.

 

The nice secretary said hello, it was nice to see him, and gave him a hard candy. Akechi thanked her, said it was nice to see her doing so well, and unwrapped the candy as he pressed the down button in the elevator.

 

Hanamura was already waiting for him, hands crossed across his chest and headphones in.

 

“You have my results?” Akechi says, moving towards Hanamura as Hanamura gently took off his large orange headphones.

 

“Yup, wanna see them yourself?” Hanamura’s already walking to the DNA lab, Akechi follows behind.

 

The DNA lab is bustling now, five or six people moving in tandem, all trying to get all they could from what looked like a dissected bag of almonds.

 

Hanamura moved nimbly through the crowd, evading contact with the others without really bumping into anyone. Akechi doesn't know if Hanamura used to be a dancer, but he certainly sometimes moves like one, curls his hips a certain way to get around obstacles that Akechi wishes he could emulate in a fight.

 

Hanamura snags a folder sitting by the printer, and gets back to the door where Akechi is waiting.

 

“These are your results, I can go over more in detail somewhere else if you want. This room’s crowded.”

 

Akechi agrees to that, so the two of them end up in Hanamura’s small, bland office. There were  only two pictures on the desk, one was an older picture of a group of people in which Akechi only recognized two and other just showed Hanamura and a tall silver haired male.

 

Akechi did know the woman who was sitting in the swivel chair, eating her lunch and scrolling through her phone.

 

“Naoto, this is not your office.” Hanamura says, arms going across his chest, the folder carefully tucked underneath one of his arms. “Are you trying to hiding out from Inspector Megure in _forensics_?”

 

Shirogane shrugs, popping the small cookie she was eating entirely into her mouth. “I’m not going to say no, nor yes- hello Akechi.” She looks around Hanamura and waves with her clean hand.

 

“Hello Miss Shirogane.” Akechi bows poliety to his mentor, the previous holder of the title ‘detective prince’.

 

Shirogane leans further back in Hanamura’s desk chair, snagging another sweet cookie from her lunch. She offers one to Akechi, who gladly steps around Hanamura to accept it. The cookies, the whole lunch, was probably from her fiance, a very nice man who had entirely too many keychain accessories. The cookie was the first thing that Akechi had eaten that day and honestly, it was one of the better things Akechi had ever consumed.

 

“Should I leave? Are you about to talk about case details that I am not mean to know?” Shirogane asks, her sharp eyes catching on the folder Hanamura puts down on his desk to steal a piece of Shirogane's lunch.

 

“That depends, Akechi?”

 

Akechi thinks about it for a moment, but decided that it wouldn’t be either here nor there to allow Shirogane to listen in on the results of this test. “It’s fine, it’s just for a hunch after all.”

 

Hanamura flips open the file and moves to the light board that hung on the left wall, clipping two transparent papers too it. Hanamura flips the switch and a low humming fills the room, the bright light of the light board makes everyone wince for a second before they focused on what Hanamura was showing.

 

Two different sets of data, almost looking like seismographs were displayed clearly.

 

“The DNA that I was provided was clean enough on both samples to get a good reading, on the left is the sample from the cup and the right is the sample from the hairs. The cup sample had two sets of DNA on it, one male one female. The female’s DNA nearly doesn't match at all, the only thing in common are some spikes that indicate ethnicity.” Hanamura taps the small spikes he’s referring to.

 

Hanamura then overlaps the two transparent sheets, fixing it so that the two labeled ‘male-hair’ and ‘male-cup’ were on top of each other, carefully placed.

 

“The two males have a partial match,” Hanamura points to where the spikes in the graphs overlap, and Akechi tries to keep his breathing under control. “The match is about 38%, which is low for actual siblings but high for half siblings, abnormally high. The DNA has an interesting mutation on the X-DNA actually, here.” Hanamura points out the spike he’s referring to with a fingertip. “The mutation’s really odd for a person of Japanese descent, but not totally uncommon of people from Germany. If you got this DNA from people around here I can almost guarantee they have a relation, at least through their mother’s side.”

 

That’s a surprise actually, and it catches Akechi off guard for a moment, the two overlapping spikes are very similar, it’s uncanny. “The two said they were connected through their father.” Akechi manages to get out through his tight throat.

 

“They might be.” Hanamura acknowledges, ”38% is incredibly high for only half siblings. Its closer to 27-23%, with a 2% room for error. If you know for certain that the two share a father then that explains some of it, because the shared mutation is on the X-DNA, and that means that their mothers were most likely related somehow, furthest relation I’d say cousins.”

 

Akechi sits down in the chair facing Hanamura’s desk, hands interlacing and pressed against his forehead. “This,” he swallows, “This complicated my hunch.”

 

Shirogane and Hanamura share a look, Akechi knows that the two of them are discussing something with their eyes, but he could care less right now.

 

Akechi’s phone in his pocket buzzes, and Akechi’s breath shakes heavily as he tries to calm himself. That would be Ken most likely, with a text showing off his lunch or another one of Koromaru.

 

Akechi pulls himself together with a shaky smile, a thank you. Hanamura’s brow creases, he gets that look on his face that Akechi knows is a ‘I’m-not-your-big-brother-but-I-will-be-one-now’ expression. Shirogane knows her former student better than Hanamura does however, and reaches out with a “Akechi-”

 

“Sorry! Thank you for the information this was incredibly helpful-”

 

“Akechi wait-” Shirogane’s standing up now, moving quickly behind the desk to get at him.

 

“I’ve used my lunch period up, I need to get back.” Akechi’s already getting out of the room, through the door. “Thank you, again!”

 

Akechi’s hurrying to the elevator, his hands clenched tight into fists and his chest burning up with an indescribable emotion. His persona’s scream at him, Robin Hood’s clawing at his heart, slamming his head against Akechi’s chest, kicking around Akechi’s skull. Loki’s claws are tearing up his insides, dragging through his ribs and scarring the inside of them, trying to escape the cage. Akechi wants to cry, to scream, to let _something_ out of this hellhole of a feeling. Who _cared_ if Ken was related to him, really, that closely, why didn’t his father know, why didn’t his father _care_ . Their mothers might have been _cousins,_ might have been _sisters_ for all he knew. He didn’t even know his mother _had_ a fucking sister, how fucking- Akechi was burning up with emotion, emotion he didn’t know how to express, how to deal with, how to get _out of his fucking chest_.

 

Akechi’s mother died in 2007, but he’s never fucking missed her more-

 

Akechi’s whole world stops in the elevator. He’s alone, carefully clutching his briefcase, as a thought graces his thoughts.

 

His hands race to his phone, inputting the code quickly, the date he’ll never forget, 061007, six digits. October sixth, 2007.

 

The article that Akechi had looked up was still there, right when Akechi pressed the app for the internet, the day that Ken’s own mother had died terribly in a horrible accident. Two days before Akechi’s own mom committed suicide.

 

Akechi’s brain starts connecting the dots, if his mother and Ken’s mother were related, somehow, someway, then they might have been in contact with each other, supporting each other through what they had been going through. If-

 

If-

 

Ken’s mother’s death-

 

It might have caused his own mother’s-

 

It might have been a cause in-

 

The elevator dings, Akechi takes a deep breath, clicks his phone closed and shoves it back into his back-pocket. He’s not going to speculate like that, not going to even start to deal with that train of thought.

 

Robin Hood wants _blood_ . Loki’s claws are in his throat, tearing it up and making Akechi want to _scream_ . But he can’t, he _fucking can’t_.

 

Akechi walks out of the building, his back straight and his head held high. His lip has been bitten through, but he’s ignoring it. He needs to go back to school, his lunch period is almost over.

 

Akechi doesn’t have the money to call another cab, he’s on a student’s budget after all, he’s barely scraping by as it is.

 

Akechi decides fuck it, he’s not in the mood for public transportation today.

 

He calls for a cab, breathing a little to heavy still.

 

* * *

 

“ **_Koromaru’s stolen most of my lunch_ **”

 

Is the text from Ken. The attached picture of the dog with the message is of the albino shiba that seemed to follow Ken around during school. The dog looks so goddamn happy, with sauce of some kind smearing against his nose and Ken’s hand pushing his face away from Ken’s lap.

 

Akechi doesn't smile, he’s sneaking these messages anyway, the teacher droning on and on about something they’ve already gone over twice now. Akechi sends a quick message of his own, the teacher having threatened to take up Akechi’s phone even if it was the prime minister calling.

 

“ **_Didn’t get to eat much lunch today at all, was busy down at the station.”_ **

 

Akechi doesn’t even bother to put away his phone because the message gets Ken’s reply nigh on immediately.

 

“ **_? Did you not get lunch at all today? ●︿●”_ **

“ **_Goro-nii, make sure you get food.”_ **

“ **_It’s bad to not eat at all. ヽ(´Д`;)ﾉ”_ **

 

Ken’s message’s cause an uneasy murmur to echo between his persona’s. Nobody’s taken care of Akechi for a long time now, so now the concern is something he’s not sure how to deal with fully.

 

“ **_I’ll get food when I get home.”_ **

**_“Most likely.”_ **

 

Akechi thinks to his apartment’s empty cupboards,the fridge that has two condiments and leftovers from a month ago still sitting there. This wouldn’t be the first time, and Akechi hates to do it he usually budgets better than he has been but this whole month’s been hard. Akechi knows how important it is to eat, to sleep, to take care of his basic functions so he doesn't burn out.

 

“ **_...”_ **

**_“I dont like the sound of that.”_ **

**_“At all.”_ **

**_“Where is your school. （人･ω･)”_ **

**_“I’m taking you to dinner. （　´∀｀）”_ **

 

Akechi raises an eyebrow, Ken lived a far distance away, far enough that it would be not feasible to get to Tokyo by train by the time that Akechi got out of school. Akechi texts the school he goes to anyway, just to see if Ken could actually do anything at all.

 

“ **_(　･`ω･´)Thank you! I’ll pick you up at the gates.”_ **

 

Akechi raises a brow, and texts one more quick message before putting his phone away.

 

“ **_I thought I was meant to be the big brother?”_ **

 

“ **_By only 22 days!!”_ **

 

* * *

 

Akechi’s actually surprised to see Ken by the gates when he gets out of school, leaning against the brick wall that surrounds the school in his own uniform. Ken’s on his phone, furiously texting someone, and lo and behold at his side is a familiar face.

 

An albino shiba inu rests carefully between Ken’s feet. Koromaru’s head comes up to Ken’s knees, the white dog hair on Ken’s uniform clearly saying that this was Koromaru’s prefered spot to sit.

 

Ken’s head pops up as students begin to file by him, smiling at the people who stare openly and waving at the girls who giggle.

 

Ken notices Akechi, and calls him over with a wave. Koromaru barks, whole body wiggling happily.

 

“I see you’ve brought a friend.” Akechi remarks when he gets close, watching as Koromaru stays put between Ken’s legs.

 

“He’s the best dog a boy can ask for.” Ken remarks. “He refused to let me go without him, and my senpai wouldn’t put up with him whining without me.”

 

Akechi does notice that Koromaru really hasn’t moved from Ken’s side, even when other people move by them the dog stays were it is. Well trained then.

 

“I’m surprised you managed to get here in time, who’d you have to bribe to get here?”

 

Ken laughs, “A friend, I had to ask incredibly nicely. Promise to put in overtime.”

 

Akechi wants to know more, wants to pry.

 

“I have found a wonderful restaurant however, Aki-senpai recommended it to me and it’s got good reviews from the other people he’s brought there.” Ken moves from the wall, Koromaru sticks faithfully to his heels. “Lets go?”

 

Akechi’s tightly wound ball of emotions bubble, they twist, but they also loosen just a little bit. Akechi sighs, and lets Ken lead the way.


	3. Chapter 3

> _**Fidelity is the brother of justice.** _   
>    
> 

* * *

 

 

Akechi’s morning starts with his phone buzzing. 

 

His hand slips out from under the pile of mismatched blankets, fumbling around for the damned thing for a moment. The phone’s just on the nightstand, plugged in, so Akechi pulls the charger cable from it and pulls it back under the blanket to answer. 

 

The bright screen says ‘Masayoshi Shido’. 

 

Akechi is instantly awake, upright, he’s answering as he’s slipping out of bed. 

 

“Hello?” 

 

The soft pause on the other line makes Akechi tense up, it’s Shido’s silent disapproval. Akechi knows not to fill the silence, knows it will only make things harder on himself later. 

 

“I need you to hunt down the man known as ‘Ichiryusai Madarame’. Infiltrate his palace and secure a route to him, I want him paranoid, scared, but not dead. I have plans for him later, but I need to have him backed in a corner, do you understand.” 

 

“Yes sir.” Akechi nods, there was no room in his father's voice for mistakes, no room for any kind of softness. 

 

“I expect you to have this done by Wednesday, I have a meeting with the man on Thursday and I want him to have a day to get used to the new state of his mind.” 

 

“Yes sir.” 

 

The dial tone, Shido had hung up.  

 

Akechi stands in his one room apartment, the phone to his ear and in his pajamas on a sunday morning. It’s too early to be awake considering that Akechi was up late last night working on his homework, working on getting a report done for the police station, texting Ken. 

 

It’s nearly five in the morning, and Akechi won't be able to get back to sleep so soon. He grips his phone in his hand, thinking how much time he needs to devote to this new mission of his, who even  _ was _ this new individual that needed to be terrorized? Akechi begins his search, easily pulling up the person of interest. A wonderful artist apparently, a master of various styles and in museums around the globe. 

 

Akechi spends about an hour going through basic news of this man, tumbling through forums of absolute art enthusiasts about this man. There was many a dark rumor about this man, how he really didn’t live at his supposed house, how he put on a public face, how he may have stolen artwork from his students. 

 

Akechi pulls up the glitchy navigation app and types in the name, just checking to make sure that this man  _ could  _ be exploited through a palace or if Akechi had to actually hunt down all the blackmail himself in the real world with the help of backstreet individuals. 

 

The name gave a positive hit, and now it’s just a guessing game of what in the world the palace could actually be. 

 

Akechi sighs, sits on his shitty bed, and gets to work making guesses.

 

It’s not terribly hard to figure out that Madarame has a museum for a mindscape, he is an artist after all, it was the second word Akechi guessed. What’s harder is to figure out where the palace was. It could have been anywhere, technically, but it’s easier to guess places that Madarame frequented. That took a while longer, Akechi having to go through multiple art studios before finally settling on that shack where he supposedly lives. 

 

The application beeps out the affirmative, wavering the world around him for an instant, before the phone screen just displays a map with a route to the palace. 

 

Akechi hits the ‘return to the real world’ option, and decides to get along with his day. It’s nearly seven, that’s a realistic enough time to be awake on the weekend, so Akechi simply decides it’s time to get ready for the day, get work done, maybe do homework later on if he has the time. 

 

He makes himself breakfast, an easy enough meal to slam together quickly, and eats it as he’s walking out the door. 

 

He needs to get to the police station by nine, but it won’t hurt to get there early to get the paperwork he needs to do filled out and for him to get a few things he needs from the older detectives before the meeting today. 

 

Akechi sighs, rolls his shoulders, and plasters on a smile. 

 

* * *

 

Ken’s awake by eight, finished with his run by eight forty-five, and ready for his day by nine. Koromaru’s always a good running buddy, but he’s older now and needs more time to recharge than he did when he was younger. 

 

Ken pets Koromaru for a minute before leaving, making sure the dog’s food bowl is full and the water dispenser is working right before he heads on out to go to the Kirijo Group’s regional headquarters to meet up with everyone. 

 

The regional headquarters of the Kirijo Group is incredibly fancy, one of the main developmental facilities that the Kirijo Group owns, and the people who work on the main floors just think of Ken as another intern in the mix, another face to get coffee and work on basic tasks. The people who work in the deeper parts, the ones covered up with so much red tape and misdirections, know him as one of the few known persona users in the world. 

 

Mitsuru’s called a meeting to discuss the mental shutdowns happening in the capital. She’s dragged Akihiko back from europe, Junpei back from America, Yukari from wherever she was filming from and Fuuka from the countryside. Mitsuru’s also called in the auxiliary, the persona users formerly known as the Investigation Team. 

 

Ken arrives right on time to the meeting on the fifty-fifth floor, the view one of the shimmering shiny ocean around them, the idyllic green hills just outside the city. Mitsuru’s already at the head of the table, folder in front of her and looking over her notes. 

 

Ken sits right by Akihiko, to his left and by Mitsuru at the head of the table, his seat was predetermined by the small name tags that had been set out, carefully attached to the personalized coffee mugs. Ken says hello to his senpai, and takes a sip of the coffee to find it perfectly brewed, as always. 

 

Across from him is Naoto Shirogane, she’s chatting to her fiance on her left, Kanji Tatsumi. The two make an interesting picture, but a picture that Ken likes to see. The two of them are happy together, they work together like perfectly fitted machine parts. 

 

Junpei’s cup is on Akechi’s other side, to his right, but Junpei isn’t there yet, most likely running late to the meeting. Yukiko Amagi sits one down from Junpei, she’s holding onto her own cup and waves when Ken greets her. 

 

There’s still a few seats missing, but these kinds of meetings have always started about fifteen minutes late.

 

Ken has a folder in front of him, but ignores it in favor of texting. They’ll go over the whole thing in detail during the meeting, Mitsuru was a very thorough, and when the whole cognitive shutdowns occured Mitsuru had jumped on it, these shutdowns eerily close too those old cases of Apathy Syndrome for anyone's liking. 

 

He texts the other members of the student council a reminder to make sure that the sports festival preparations are getting underway, one in response to a girl who asked him to date her at three in the morning through text (no, sorry, not interested), and continues on the conversation with Goro-nii from last night. 

 

“ **_I’ve thought about it, and decided that I do like waffles better_ ** ” 

 

They had talked about various foods they enjoyed, and Goro-nii had casually mentioned liking pancakes, and Ken had admitted to never really trying them before, as the dorm had a waffle iron and why would you eat pancakes when you can have waffles? 

 

So of course that conversation had lasted about an hour. 

 

“Sorry I’m late!” Junpei's voice comes from the door, spoken in english. He’s been with a minor league American team for the past six months, being scouted by the major leagues for a team in the state of Georgia.  The time difference is never good to him, so Junpei needs the time he takes. 

 

“We’re just waiting for one more group, the two have already texted me that they had a late start this morning.” Mitsuru says, gesturing Junpei towards his seat by Ken. 

 

Junpei sits down heavy, he slugs his bag down by his feet and whispers to Ken that he has presents to give them all. Ken internally preens, excited by the small American gifts that Junpei always brings back for everyone. 

 

The small talk around the table is mostly a few people here and there chatting about how life’s going, their jobs and coworkers, random bits of news. Ken gets a few hellos, a few nice-to-see-your-doing-wells, but they mostly leave him to his phone as they can see his finger’s texting. 

 

It only takes a few minutes for the last two to meander into the room, looking flushed, rushed, and embarrassed for being so late. Yu Narukami and Yosuke Hanamura, who make the excuse of car trouble early this morning as they had left their apartment. 

 

Yu sits across from Akihiko, to the right of Naoto Shirogane, Yosuke sits on Ken’s side, one up from Fuuka on the end. 

 

Mitsuru thanks them all for her time, flips open the folder on the table in front of her, and starts the meeting. 

 

* * *

 

“Where’s Shirogane today?” Akechi asks the nearest officer at the meeting. It’s for a case that relates to the almond one, this one truly involved in peanuts now. 

 

The officers around Akechi are high level detectives, and usually Shirogane would be amongst them, but her slim form is nowhere to be seen. He’s looked around, usually wanting to sit by her and listen to how she approaches the case at hand, but it looks like she’s absent. 

 

“She’s been called in by the Kirijo Group, they needed her and Hanamura for the day.” Inspector Megure says, shrugging at the way the powerful corporation demands one of the forces best detectives and best forensics scientist that the Tokyo Police Department. 

 

Akechi sighs, knowing that this meeting will be long without friends to chat with, but also taking a moment and filing away the mention of that particular group. He’s heard that name before, who hasn’t really? They’re incredibly influential, influential enough that Shido wants to get their pockets and their current C.E.O to sway to his side. Akechi’s been asked to look into all the high level employee’s, but they didn’t show up on the metaverse app, and the backroad access he had through various Yakuza contacts turned up nothing. 

 

Akechi himself admits that his entire scheme is attributed to the Kirijo Group, as three years ago he had gotten an in through a unfaithful employee, an employee who thought they could get richer quicker by spilling information to the right people. Akechi had taken the phone that particularly dumb employee had stolen from the Kirijo Group’s R&D department, his original intention was to take the phone and turn profit, but a partially strange looking app had piqued Akechi’s interest. 

 

Through trial and error Akechi was now where he was, carefully pressing through the strange world the app gave him access through, thanking whatever deity was looking out for him that the app simply appeared on his new phone he had gotten about six months ago. 

 

The Kirijo Group was something Akechi always had a passing interest in, but now knowing that Shirogane and Hanamura had potential contacts there? Now Akechi would  _ have _ to ask them about it, later, in a way that could be shaped into something much less pointed. 

 

Inspector Megure calls for attention, telling the officers in the room to find their seats they needed to get started and go over the information they had gathered last night from the new crime scene that had popped up in this case. 

 

Akechi sighs, but sits down and checks his phone as it buzzes in his pocket. 

 

It’s Ken, continuing last night's conversation. 

 

Akechi stops himself from scoffing at the statement, about how  _ wrong _ Ken can be about breakfast foods. Waffle’s held the syrup for far too long in their squares, allowing the maple to wet the waffle and ruin the integrity of the whole plate. Pancakes had a smoother texture, a better overall feeling. 

 

“ **_You can be wrong about things, that’s okay._ ** ”  

 

Akechi backs out of the messages with Ken, his phone would buzz when another text came in he didn’t have to watch the dots jump as Ken typed out a reply. Akechi scrolls down a few names and clicks on Shirogane, he types out a quick message asking her if she wanted the meeting notes from his meeting and what she was doing that required missing it. 

 

Akechi clicks the messaging app closed, and places his phone on the desk next to his legal pad. 

 

* * *

 

“Oh! Akechi texted me.” Naoto comments, looking at her phone during their lunch break. 

 

The company had paid for a nice restaurant to cater their lunch, the sheer amount of food makes Ken think about how many days he can live off the leftovers. The lady who brought them all lunch even had a small bag of high quality dog food for Koromaru wrapped up in a fancy gift bag. 

 

Ken, who’s standing by the window and fiddling with the jersey of the team Junpei would play for next season, it was his gift to Ken from America and Ken loved it. He heard Naoto’s comment and turns, eyebrow cocked. 

 

“You know an Akechi?” Ken asks, almost casually. It would make sense, actually, now that he thinks about it. He had looked into Goro-nii as soon as he had started to pick up popularity with the novelty of his young age and high profile police cases, and since Naoto is (if Ken’s remembering right) a detective she might know him! “Small world!” 

 

As it turns out, they both know the same person, Naoto and Ken do. It’s rare that the two team’s even meet, let alone interact with the same people, so knowing the same person outside of this whole persona business is a neat bit of novelty. 

 

“Yosuke and I both know him actually, a sharp mind in the field.” Naoto nods to Yosuke, who’s talking with Yu and Mitsuru near the windows. “He’s usually around every other day, helping us out with the workload, I think he’s officially on record as a junior detective.” 

 

Ken’s smile is one he wears easily, not wholly fake but not at all real either. “That is so cool! I know him through our parents, we’ve hung out two or three times.” 

 

Naoto smiles, “It’s always nice to see the younger kids get interested in police work! If you ever wanted to come and visit the office’s I could give you a tour sometime.” 

 

“That would be so awesome! Getting a personal tour of a police department! Would I get to see all the top secret cases?” Ken’s already getting his camera app out, opening his phone to snap a picture. 

 

“I’m afraid not,” Naoto laughs, “Just a basic tour I’m afraid.” 

 

Ken pretends to be sad about that, pouting, before asking Naoto to take a picture with him so he can send it to Akechi to say hello. 

 

Naoto gets photobombed by Rise sneaking into the photograph, making bunny ears behind Naoto’s blue cap and sticking her tounge out. Ken’s laughing, the whole photo a great one, with a good many of his friends milling around in the background and Naoto’s brief look of confusion at the intrusion. 

 

Ken sends it, with a wave. 

 

He pockets his phone, slipping it into his back pocket. Akihiko’s calling for Ken’s attention, bringing him into the conversation with Yukari about how Koroumaru’s doing, and how Yukari was thinking about bringing the old dog onto set for a few scenes that involved a dog. 

 

Ken’s already thinking about how to convince Koromaru to be on the show, maybe treats?

 

* * *

 

Akechi’s phone buzzes when he’s biking back to his home, so Akechi ignores it, waiting until he’s back in his building to reach into his pocket and grab out his phone. 

 

It’s a little awkward, holding a bike and trying to get onto the elevator, but adding trying to read the messages on a tiny phone screen just made it all worse. Akechi manages it without losing dignity, and waits till the shitty elevator kicks into gear before really focusing on the text. It’ll take a moment to get to his floor. 

 

Two messages from Ken, one from Shirogane. 

 

Shirogane just thanked him for thinking of her, and would love to see Akechi’s notes on the meeting. Her tone is always polite and cordial, Akechi had already taken pictures of his notes at the station so he simply sends them to her in a huge block chain. 

 

Ken’s sent him a picture, and has responded to the earlier conversation about breakfast foods.

 

**_“I honestly would be down to eat any breakfast meal unless it was cereal. I can’t have milk I’m lactose intolerant. Are you also lactose intolerant or is that not a family thing?_ ** ”

 

Akechi  _ is _ lactose intolerant, and says so in quick response to the first message he types that out and sends it. The elevator dings, and Akechi slips his phone back into his back pocket to move his bike into his apartment. 

 

His bike fits by the door, carefully propped up as it’s one of the most expensive things Akechi owns, and Akechi checks his phone to see the picture that Ken had sent. 

 

The photo loads in and it’s clear the focal point is Ken himself wearing a nice navy jersey that has a cut off english logo and throwing up a peace sign. The people slightly to the left of Ken is what catches Akechi’s attention, because that’s Shirogane. 

 

She’s looking at the camera, clearly seeing the bunny ears that the girl behind her is holding. Akechi smirks, he now knows who Ken’s powerful friend is, the one with contacts with their shared associate. He knows someone in the Kirijo Group. 

 

That makes Ken almost dangerous. Having friends like that. Akechi knows just how to use people though, and if he has an  _ in  _ to the higher ups of the Kirijo Group then he’s going to wiggle himself into the  _ just right  _ position to manipulate them.

 

The girl who’s pranking Shirogane also looks awfully familiar, Akechi can’t place where he’s seen that face before though. The people milling in the background don’t answer many of the questions Akechi has, noticing that one of the men is wearing a shirt with what  _ looked _ like the same logo on Ken’s jersey, another woman wearing pink that Akechi can  _ swear _ he’s seen before. 

 

The hole of Ken Amada is just getting deeper, and Akechi is determined to get to the bottom of it. 

 

* * *

 

Ken Amada holds a folder full of information on the cognitive shutdowns in Tokyo, with a mission that had Mitsuru Kirjio’s signature on it. 

 

He’s smiling as he texts his brother, asking if Akechi knew any good places to eat near Aoyama-Itchome. 

 

He’s got a set of Phantom Thieves to investigate. 


	4. Chapter 4

 

> _**I have always found that mercy bears richer fruits than strict justice.** _   
>    
> 

* * *

 

Makoto is slightly surprised when she gets to school on Monday and see’s Principle Kobayakawa in the student council room. 

 

He’s sweating, heavily, but that’s nothing new. The principal's got some kind of exciting news, he’s actually attempting to smile, to be nice to the children for once instead of his usual dismissive tone. 

 

He explains to everyone that the schools in the district are going to do an exchange of student council members tomorrow to get a feel about how the other school councils are run and handled. The principal is going on and on about how nice it is that the students at his school had been  _ chosen _ for such an  _ honor _ it was simply amazing! The principal rattled about this award and that and how it was so  _ charitable  _ of the Korijio Group to finance the leaders of tomorrow during this expedition. 

 

Makoto sees through this instantly. The principle is getting paid to do this. It must be a pretty penny too, judging by how happy the man looks. 

 

Makoto doesn't volunteer to go, she can’t as the student council president. She needs to stay at her own school and show the guest around. The student council president for each school would act as a ‘guide’ to the guest student. It wasn’t bad, however. Not only did Makoto get to miss out on three of the six class periods for this, she even got an extended lunch to bring the visiting student food from around the area. 

 

The student from Shujin Academy that’s going to visit another school tomorrow is a second year, her hair braided to the side and a content expression when she got chosen. 

 

Makoto thanks Principle Kobayakawa for informing them and then asks what school Shujin Academy has received to host for, more information regarding the subject of how this whole system was meant to work, why was the student council only told of this a single day in advance. The huge man simply laughs, waving away Makoto’s questions. “I’ve sent you an email with everything you need to know on it.” The man clearly thinks it’s cute that Makoto wants to be professional about these things. 

 

Makoto thinks it is very much not cute at all when the man’s already leaving the room, telling the student council to take care of themselves and get ready to show their skills as leaders of the school tomorrow morning bright and early! 

 

Makoto uses her morning to gather the things she would potentially need to have for tomorrow, like the budget for school clubs, the general schedule that the student council followed for their meetings, the minutes from last meeting. She does check her email, and gets what looks to be a forward from a superintendent of a school district in the heart of Tokyo. 

 

The gist of the long-winded email was that a school had dropped out of the program last minute. Shujin Academy had been selected to participate only about three days ago, with the confirmation email coming in late last night. The school’s in the program were located all across the country, coming from places like Tokyo, some near the seaside near Iwatodai, even from out in the deep country like Yasoinaba. Makoto hadn’t even  _ heard _ of some of the cities where students were coming from. 

 

The high school that was assigned to Shujin Academy was a school that Makoto was familiar with, one that showed up on the top ranked schools in the nation. The school for elite kids from the top tier of society, the best of the best. 

 

Gekkoukan High School.

 

The representative coming tomorrow is a student by the name of Ken Amada. 

 

Makoto preps the whole club room, she asks the student going to a nearby school tomorrow to arrive early please. She plans during class, keeping notes all the while. She has to move her investigation of the Phantom Thief graffiti that was behind the school by the dumpsters. 

 

Makoto makes plans, keeps backups in her journal. She will not allow this minor setback to keep her down.

 

* * *

 

Ryuji’s waiting for the morning train at his connector. He lives the furthest away from Shujin Academy so his morning commute is the longest. The northbound train was arriving in about two minutes, giving Ryuji enough time to send a few messages on his phone. The phantom thieves needed to get around Yusuke to unlock that door in Madarame's palace. The four of them had a plan they would put into motion after school today. 

 

The train arrives after Ryuji catches up from the morning chat memes he had missed while doing his morning run. Ann was up and about sending awful photos of Ryuji from middle school, Akira was pleading with her for more, reacting with hearts and laughing emojis. 

 

The train’s not too crowded yet, not having reached more popular stations, but it’s still crowded enough that Ryuji decides not to sit down and take the seat from somebody who really needs it. 

 

( _ A whole six months not being able to put weight on his leg, having to grit his teeth and try not to cry as not a single person got up to allow him to sit down-)  _ __   
__   
Ryuji’s standing by the door, leaning against the vertical bar with his eyes glued to his phone. Ryuji looks at the people around him only for a moment as he settles in for the trip, another high school kid with a uniform Ryuji hadn’t seen before and a average looking businessman. 

 

The group chat reveals that Ann’s plan involves more clothes than Ryuji had ever owned in his entire life, she is very adamant that Akira and Ryuji better hurry up to the door, that Morgana better be able to get that lock open. 

 

“Excuse me?” a voice pulls Ryuji away from his phone by the words, clearly directed to either him or the businessman. 

 

It’s the highschool kid, looking a little nervous, unsure. “Uh, that uniform, do you happen to go to Shujin Academy?” 

 

It takes a second for Ryuji to realise the kid was actually talking to him, and nods. “Yeah, why ya ask?” 

 

“I’m apart of the student council exchange for today, and am unsure which station to get off of for your school.” The kid’s clearly nervous, showing his phone’s navigation app to Ryuji and how it only told him the town itself not the station name. 

 

That’s why Ryuji didn’t recognize the black uniform, the black and white emblem. That made sense then. 

 

“It’s Aoyama-Itchome Station.” Ryuji confirms for him, “It’s a little bit of a walk, but it’s huge you can’t miss the students all walking towards it. Our uniforms are pretty visible.” Ryuji’s pats the plaid pants that Shujin Academy was well known for, the pattern standing pretty uniquely amongst the other more bland ones around the city. 

 

“Thanks man,” The kid’s tension drains from his shoulders, a look of relief on his face. “I’m just really nervous, having to travel all this way to Tokyo, then last minute getting assigned the school with the whole scandal with that awful teacher that just happened.” 

 

Ryuji perks up at that, because hey, that’s the Phantom Thieves this kid was talking about. “Oh?” Ryuji makes an encouraging noise, to prompt the student to continue on with the conversation. Ryuji wants to know what others think of the Phantom Thieves, wants to hear praises about his amazing friends. “You heard about that? Heard about who apparently was behind all that?”  

 

The high school student looks excited, a huge smile on his face. “Yeah! The Phantom Thieves! My friends and I are all over the website that’s been put up.” 

 

That smile. Something about it. Ryuji’s seen it before, he knows it. He can’t place it exactly, can’t pick where he knows it from, but Ryuji  _ knows _ that this smile is something he has seen before and should be wary of. 

 

Ryuji’s instincts are screaming at him, so he goes on guard. 

 

“There’s a website?” Ryuji asks, trying not to seem too interested in the topic, trying to take Ann’s advice and be chill about it. 

 

“Are you one of the people who doubt the validity of the Phantom Thieves?” The high schoolers expression falls back into neutral, and Ryuji feels like this question has a lot of weight to it. 

 

“I think that, if what they say they did was something the Phantom Thieves actually did, then they’re effin’ awesome.” 

 

The high school kid seems to accept and process that answer for a moment. “How would they possibly do it? Steal a heart? I think they blackmailed the teacher.” 

 

Ryuji thought that train of thought wasn’t a bad one, heck it was the first thing that Ryuji and Akira attempted to do, get dirt on Kamoshida. 

 

“They might have convinced him to confess.” Ryuji’s putting his phone away now, turning more wholly to get involved in a conversation that’s happening. 

 

The kid just raises an eyebrow. 

 

Ryuji laughs. Even to him that sounds like a weak argument. They didn’t so much as convince Kamoshida to change his mind as much as they threatened his life. Threatened his minds life? Threatened his mind with his life? They threatened him. 

 

“Yeah okay it might have been blackmail.” Ryuji admits, “But what kind of guilt makes a person go through all  _ that _ ? It was kinda an intense confession.” 

 

The high schooler leans closer, interested. “Oh? Tell me  _ all _ about it.” 

 

So Ryuji does. 

 

* * *

 

Ken Amada thanks his lucky stars that the blond kid on the train was so easy to rope into conversation. Strangely eager to talk with him all about the escapades of the ‘Phantom Thieves’.

 

Ken had listened until they needed to switch trains for another three stops, then stood by the blond on the next train and continued to talk with him. 

 

Ken had made a good choice, fishing for information from this thug. Bleached hair, the slouch, the t-shirt under an unbuttoned blazer, not even bothering trying to wear his suspenders. All signs that this kid didn’t really give a shit about what the authority of his school said and or thought about. The Shujin Academy student simply shelled out invaluable information, kept talking at the slightest press of a question. 

 

Ken only had to steer the conversation, ask the right questions, feel out how the student responded to what Ken said and react to that accordingly. 

 

The kid breaks off at Aoyama-Itchome Station, saying he saw his friend and would want to walk with him. 

 

“See you around the school today, later man.” The student had said, flashing a peace sign and heading off into the crowds. 

 

Ken kept an eye out, moving with the rest of the students as the blond fought through the crowd to meet up with a boy with glasses and a girl who looked foreign. Interesting friends. 

 

The walk to school was a little bit of a haul, almost nine blocks away from the station. As Ken got closer to the school he felt the stares of the Shujin Academy students. The whispers about his uniform, his  _ hair _ , his bag, his whole self. The questioning weight of it all was something Ken’s dealt with before. It’s nothing new. It’s something he’s going to have to deal with forever. 

 

As a whole, Shujin Academy looks strange to Ken. The school is smaller than Gekkoukan, the grounds carved from whatever land could be spared in the bustling city instead of a whole island to itself. The gates of the school are simple, a quick stairwell to the entrance. The facade plain brick. 

 

For a school meant to be the birthplace of a growing movement, Ken’s not particularly caught in awe of it. 

 

“Amada?” 

 

The voice makes him turn, and he sees a neatly put together young woman standing right beside the gate. Her back is straight, her arms folded behind her back, and she looks like she’s only a few minutes from making someone’s life a living hell. 

 

“Yes. Niijima, I presume?” 

 

The shake hands. 

 

“If you would like to follow me, I’ll direct you to the student council room. I’ve set up an itinerary, the main thing I’ll be having you do today is to shadow the student council members as they do their daily tasks.” 

 

No nonsense then? Ken could handle that. “Of course. That would be excellent, I’ll follow your lead.” 

 

Niijima nods, turns on her heel, and walks. Ken follows closely behind her, ignoring the questioning glances sent his way. The whispers about why he’s with the student council President. She seems not to care either way, headed straight to the council room. 

 

It looked neat inside, with what was clearly the council members already there and waiting. They all perked up when Ken walked in the door, interested. 

 

“This is Ken Amada.” Niijima’s already introducing him, gesturing, “He will be a guest of Shujin Academy today, apart of the Student Council Exchange program that allows councils from other schools around the country to interact and learn from each other.” 

 

“Nice to meet you.” Ken gives a polite bow. 

 

The council all greets him back, each giving their names. 

 

Niijima seems pleased, like a happy mother watching her children get along. “Now that we have introductions out of the way, let’s talk about the functions and daily activities of the Shujin Council.” 

 

Ken finds a seat next to Nijima’s, settling down and placing his bag at his feet. 

 

* * *

 

Makoto finds that she likes being a guide for this whole exchange program. 

 

The teachers are already aware of what’s happening and the students are all informed by a morning announcement. No one bothers her as she explains the school, the purpose of what happening. Ken is a respectful study, asking questions for clarity when needed and making the tone conversational. 

 

“-due to the recent events, the committee has had to redo the budget allocation for the sports clubs.” Makoto is saying, her fingers pointing at the specific spot on the budget sheets that showed the change between having the disbanded track budget feed into the volleyball budget and the recent edits. 

 

“I’ve heard all kinds of things about those ‘recent events’ that happened in this school.” Ken says, eyes scanning over the excel sheet. “What exactly happened, because I’ve heard everything from the teacher forcing a student into suicide to breaking a student’s leg.” Ken points to an unmarked category on the budget. “What’s this?” 

 

“That’s the leftover funds the clubs and students raise that go to the school festival.” Makoto answers automatically, still trying to find a way to diplomatically answer the first question raised. She thinks on it a moment more, before deciding to go with the truth of the matter. 

 

“A teacher was allowed by the school to go unchecked for too long. He was a huge draw for very talented athletes, but treated the athletes around him  _ very _ poorly.” 

 

Makoto thinks of that poor girl, the way she was spread so still on the ground. She could have listened more to the soft protests the whispers of warning, should have listened to the way Sakamoto hissed in pain every time he had to walk up those stairs in his thick brace. 

 

“What stopped him?” 

 

Makoto looks sharply at Ken, see’s the very careful blankness on his face. He’s clearly fishing for answers, trying to get information out of Makoto in a subtle way. He’s either a brillant gossip, or looking for something very specific. Either way, Makoto is  _ not  _ a fan. 

 

“If you wanted to know about the Phantom Thieves you could have just asked.” She says, tone hard. 

 

Ken’s body shifts, his whole self now facing Makoto. There’s a defensiveness about the way he holds himself, a steady stance, Makoto’s taken enough martial arts lessons to realize when a person can fight. Ken’s not doing it on purpose, it’s not threatening in any way, he’s simply responding to the tone. 

 

“I want to know about the so called Phantom Thieves.” Ken’s tone is still neutral, still casual, but the undertone of seriousness is present. “It wasn’t a coincidence that this school was chosen so last minute to be apart of this whole exchange, I’ve been tasked in getting base information from Shujin Academy and it’s students.” 

 

Makoto wasn’t expecting that answer. Wasn’t expecting the blunt way it was laid out. She knew that something was fishy with the way Shujin Academy was chosen so late in the game, especially with Kosei just a district over. She now had the answer. “You’ve also been put on the Phantom Thieves case?” 

 

That makes Ken’s stance relax, a brief moment of confusion flitting across his face before it was that careful neutral again. “ _ Also _ ? Are you investigating them as well?” 

 

Makoto nods. She pushes back from the table and stands. It only takes her a quick minute to find her school bag tucked along the cubbies. Her laptop opens up easily, Makoto finds her notes, her organized documents of research, and places her laptop on the table right in front of Ken. 

 

“I’ve spent almost a full week tracking down all the information I could. Here’s all I have on it.” 

 

Ken moves closer to the laptop, only for Makoto to block him with an arm. 

 

“If I show you this, you tell me why you came all the way from Iwatodai to look into this.” 

 

Ken considers it for a moment, before nodding. “I can’t tell you everything, but I can give you and you an overview.” 

 

Makoto accepts that offer. 

 

* * *

 

Akechi dodges another shadow, a flare of wind slicing right behind his back. Akechi’s main goal has been met already, Madarame is on high alert. The shadows are jumping at each other’s throats, the shadow of the man himself has been pacing up and down the museum corridors for the past two hours, howling and screaming about petty thieves and art theft. 

 

Akechi hauls himself up on what he can only assume is some kind of priceless modern art, using the delicate stonework to get high enough to kick in a vent on the ceiling. 

 

Vents in these cognitive landscapes aren’t always the best way to get around, just as likely to lead to nowhere as they were to get you to safety. Akechi’s just one person, however, and he’s slim enough to wiggle through just about whatever he can reach. 

 

It’s undignified,  _ messy _ , and above all the cowards way to get out of a situation. 

 

Akechi wiggles another twenty feet, and uses the butt of his gun to slam open the vent right before him. 

 

The vent lead to the gallery room, the one with all the portraits of teenagers, full of paintings of young adults all done up in different art styles. Akechi already knows each name, from the very oldest to the very youngest. Each is a person who knows Madarame’s worst side, each is a person who this man covets for some reason, each is a person who will potentially spill all kinds of secrets about the man. 

 

Akechi limps out of the side window he broke to get into this maze of a museum. 

 

Before he goes back into the real world, Akechi needs to bandage the slow oozing wound on his side. A lucky shadow had raked its hands across his ribs, catching Akechi just in the wrong spot. 

 

The white gaze burns as Akechi wraps his own ribs. The antiseptic medicine makes him  _ wince _ in pain, it’s a weird twist to yank off the black inky clothes so he can wrap his ribs correctly. 

 

The wrapping is not his best job, but it’ll do for now at least. Akechi can make it home, crawl into that shitty bed he calls his own and sleep until school in the morning. 

 

The world comes back into focus when Akechi’s a good bit away from the monster museum, hiding his limp, his injury, with practiced poise and grace. 

 

The world fades in with a rush of noise, of smells and sounds and  _ feeling _ . The air in the real world actually  _ moves _ while there is no wind in the cognitive world, it all feels like an incredibly humid room. The real world has  _ variance _ and  _ life _ too it that the cognitive world simply lacks. 

 

Akechi makes his way to the station a block down the road. He never bikes to his targets, never wanting to take the chance of not being able to bike back home after a bad stint in the metaverse. 

 

The stations crowded after a busy day, people just trying to make it home. Akechi has gotten a half day at school today, giving the principal of his school an excuse from the diet building. The excuse was real, Shido had given the orders, but the signature was forged by Akechi’s hand. 

 

Akechi’s standing very still, waiting on his train to come into the station, when he spots an unruly mess of black paired with two blondes. 

 

_ Hmm _ . Interesting. Akechi has just enough time to interact with them, just enough time to get to the other platform and -

 

“Akechi?” 

 

Akechi turns, his attention breaking away from his targets and focusing in on- oh. Wait.  _ Shit.  _ Akechi knows this girl in front of him. He  _ knows  _ he knows this person. 

 

“Niijima’s sister?” He guesses. He’s only about sixty percent sure that this is Prosecutor Niijima’s sister, he’s only seen her once or twice around the office when work ran late. 

 

She’s nodding, already opening her mouth to say something else when another familiar face catches Akechi’s attention. 

 

“The machine was out of grape,” Ken says as he walks up to Niijima’s side with two soft drinks, “so I got you-“

 

“Ken?!” 

 

Akechi and Ken  _ both _ startle. Ken twitches hard, eyes going wide and whole body jumping to attention. Akechi jerks back, before the pain  _ immediately  _ flared in his side so he just ends up a little lopsided. 

 

“Do you two know each other?” Niijima’s sister’s looking between them both, a little furrow of confusion in between her neatly manicured eyebrows. 

 

“He’s my brother.” Ken says. 

 

“He’s a relative.” Akechi says, at the same time. 

 

They both have no idea why the other’s even  _ in _ this station, waiting for a train. 

 

Akechi didn’t take this line, had told Ken that his daily routine didn’t run by this side of the city. Ken was meant to be  _ in school _ in the seaside town of Iwatodai  _ hours away.  _

 

_ “ _ Oh?” Niijima looks surprised, but after a few glances between them she seems to come to some kind of conclusion on her own. She nods, takes the soft drink Ken had gotten for her from the vending machine and cracks it open. 

 

“Oh! Orange is pretty good!” She exclaims, looking down at the drink. “I’ll leave you both now, thank you for coming all this way from Iwatodai Ken, I had a wonderful time meeting you.” 

 

“The pleasures mine.” Ken says back to her retreating back, his voice lost to her with the crowd. 

 

The two brothers stand awkwardly for a moment. Ken’s not sure what to say, neither is Akechi. The two of them still too new at being actual brothers to one another to be friendly, but social niceties told them they needed to act in a certain way. 

 

Ken broke first. 

 

“Why are you hurt?” He says to Akechi, gesturing to Akechi’s side. 

 

“Why are you in Tokyo?” Akechi shoots back. 

 

“A student council exchange program. It’s for the betterment of the leaders of tomorrow-“ 

 

“Cut the bullshit.” Akechi cuts off Ken’s very  _ convenient _ excuse. “There is  _ no _ reason for you to be here. Why are you in Tokyo.” 

 

Ken’s not backing down without a fight though. “Why do you have cracked ribs? There is  _ no _ reason for you to have cracked ribs. What did you do?” 

 

“I don’t have cracked ribs. Answer my question.” Akechi stands just a little straighter, as if to prove himself fine. It only makes the pain flare  _ more _ , but Akechi’s always had an excellent poker face. 

 

But Ken has the  _ same _ face, so it’s not hard for him to see right through the cracks. Ken moves fast, quickly sliding forward. 

 

Before Akechi can carefully retreat, Ken’s right by his side. Pressing the cold can  _ hard _ into the divot of Akechi’s sixth and fifth rib. 

 

“ _ Fuck! _ ” Akechi does yank back now, purely on reflex. The pain in his side cripples the movement. Making Akechi wince, arms flying up to curl at his middle as if to protect it. 

 

“Looks to me that your ribs might not be cracked, they might be  _ broken _ .” Ken’s moving again, moving to make up the space between them. Akechi flinches away on principle, not wanting another demonstration of that cold can on twinging ribs. All Ken does is grab ahold of Akechi’s wrist, the fabric of Akechi’s school uniform caught between two fingers. 

 

“Come with me.” 

 

Ken’s pleading. Looking so much like he did that first day they met. It’s a different kind of want, a different kind of desperation. This was something both of them were unfamiliar with, this familiar dependence. Ken didn’t know whether or not him or his help was wanted, Akechi didn’t know how to ask for anything without having needed to take it first. 

 

There is  _ so many _ questions to ask. Why is Ken in Tokyo? How did Ken know Akechi was hurt? Where could Ken take him to get treated with no questions asked? Could Ken even really be  _ trusted _ still? Ken could be leading Akechi right to his own death, right to the hands of the people that Akechi’s trying to dismantle with his own hands. This wasn’t a good idea, wasn’t the correct thing to do. 

 

But Akechi feels the burn along his ribs where it _aches_ with a bone deep pain. He feels the bruises, the tired wariness in his soul from having to be so incredibly vigilant in _every_ _single_ _one_ of his daily interactions. He thinks about what’s at home for him, the empty one room apartment that’s too cold and too hot at the same time with no food in the fridge. The best thing about going home would be the single painkiller he would be able to take and then sleeping until his alarm woke him up for another meanial day at school. 

 

Akechi allows Ken to lead him away, connected to each other by a scrap of fabric between two fingers. 

 

* * *

 

All it takes is one phone call. 

 

“You need to stop taking advantage of this.” Akihiko is saying, already unhooking huge headsets from the back of the pilots chair. “It’s not easy or cheap to fly these you know.” 

 

Ken’s pair is orange, his favorite color, and he puts them around his neck while Akihiko is finishing buckling Akechi into the back seat of the helicopter. The ones that Akihiko pushes into Akechi’s hands after he’s secured are just a plain black and white, the extra set that’s kept just in case an actual guest of the Kirijo Group uses the helicopter. 

 

“Akihiko, you love flying these.” Ken accuses, “and you’re on the exact same payroll I’m on, I know  _ exactly _ how cheap you fly for Mitsuru.” 

 

Akihiko shrugs, not really having an argument for that. He does like to fly things, helicopters preferably over planes. He’s not her primary pilot, but he’s her number one most trusted right hand man. Akihiko can do just about anything, as long as Mitsuru says he can.  Mitsuru doesn’t pay him at all to take her expensive toys around the country, just demanding rides wherever she wants, whenever she wants. 

 

It was hard to deny Mitsuru after all.

 

Especially when she’s paying you rather handsomely to be on call 24/7 for whatever the Kirijo Group wants. 

 

_ (Benefits and downsides. Sometimes Ken’s just collecting money, going to school and getting a check in the mail. Sometimes it’s Ken getting up at three in the morning after going to bed at one because the Kirijo Group decides they need to do endurance testing on persona users in the Colorado Mountains in the middle of winter) _

 

Akihiko takes the pilot seat, Ken sits right next to Akechi in the back. 

 

“I don’t have an excuse from school tomorrow.” Akechi’s trying to argue, has been arguing this whole time. 

 

“You will.” Ken affirms. 

 

Ken had taken Akechi from the station to a nice office building. Nicer than Akechi was really used to. Nice enough to have people in the bathroom offer you little mints and warm towels. Ken flashed an ID card, Akechi didn’t see which one, or what kind, and the secretary was suddenly very polite. Akechi had started protesting in the elevator, asking where Ken was taking him and what was happening. 

 

Ken had answered by taking out his phone and scrolling through his contacts before dialing. 

 

The whole call took the length of the elevator ride, Ken asking Akihiko to come and pick ‘a friend and himself’ up from Tokyo, the express way. 

 

“Akihiko’s still in the country.” Ken had explained as he was opening the door to the roof of the building. “If Akihiko’s still in the country I can ask him for favors.” 

 

“Who the hell is Akihiko?” Akechi demanded, wrung out and tired and in pain. 

 

“An old friend of mine.” 

 

And with that, within thirty minutes the helicopter landed on the roof. 

 

Now Akechi’s holding tight onto the straps on the ceiling above him, shaking as the streets of Tokyo fly by underneath him. Ken’s half leaning into the pilot area, chatting with Akihiko through the headsets. This helicopter is  _ fast _ , with open sides that Ken sometimes will lean  _ right out of _ to point out interesting things. Akechi is glad he’s strapped in bodily, the heavy duty rig keeping his torso secure as Akihiko takes his turns through the densely populated city, breaking free of the high rises into the more industrial part of the city. 

 

The ride’s beautiful, the air up here crisp and cold for the early summer months. The towns they fly over get little comments from either Ken- 

 

( _ “We’ve all been to the hot springs here, there’s a mean old lady who runs the inn who hated us. She charged us extra for ‘disgracing our rooms’!)  _

 

Or Akihiko. 

 

(“ _ Lived on the mountain for about a week when I was in college. I had to come back after the manufacturing plant spilled into the river and made everybody in the town hallucinate.) _

 

The landscape changes as it flies by. The sprawling city turns into a more organized suburbia. The green becomes more and more frequent, the houses less and less, appearing in hamlets all bunched together in a divot of the earth. The hills begin to roll, the rice fields start showing up. It’s breathtaking, getting to see all of it laid out so neatly, to see how the old roads wind and twist and curve while newer ones will cut right through. 

 

It takes less time than Akechi thought to see the sea. The ocean’s huge, dark blue, and beautiful. The waves crest white as they crash into the rocky volcanic shores, the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean mingles and mixes with the brighter blue of the shallow waters along the coast. Akechi can almost see past the horizon line, and Ken points out small fishing towns that still rake in their lines and nets at the crack of dawn everyday. 

 

The town of Iwatodai is a sight. The town is clean, glass buildings all lined in neat, ordered, planned out rows. There’s a small man-made island, that holds the Gekkoukan Schools, connected to the mainland by a walkable bridge. 

 

The helicopter lands on a shorter building in the town itself, a street away from the water and tucked away into a corner. It takes the helicopter turning off for Akechi to realize just how loud the vehicle actually was. The relief of taking off the huge, heavy headset is almost palpable, the cold salt air getting at previously covered ears. 

 

When Akihiko and Ken help Akechi out of the helicopter a dog’s barking at their feet, Koromaru’s tail is wagging about a hundred miles a minute. The dogs happy to see everyone, butting his head into Ken’s shins. Akechi gets both his feet planted on the ground firmly before looking around more thoroughly. 

 

There’s a woman leaning against the door of the roof, shorter in stature and wearing what appears to be doctors scrubs. Her hair is a light color, bleached and dyed sky blue. 

 

“Hello, Ken. Hello Akihiko.” She greets them both, and turns bodily to Akechi. “Are you my patient?” 

 

“Fuuka, this is Goro-nii. Goro-nii, this is Fuuka.”

 

“Nice to meet you.” Akechi sticks a hand out to shake, not forgetting his manners. 

 

“Oh! You’re the big brother we’ve all heard about.” Fuuka returns the handshake, soft smile lighting up her face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you!” 

 

That makes Akechi’s ears burn, giving a significant glare to his brother. Ken’s looking red around the ears as well, a blush high on his cheeks. Akihiko elbows Ken, laughing. 

 

“Ken and I are going to finish dressing down the ‘copter. You two go on ahead.” Akihiko’s saying. He’s already shoving some kind of duffle into Ken’s waiting hands. 

 

Fuuka nods, and gestures for Akechi to follow her as she descends the stairs. 

 

The stairways just an access point, so Fuuka has to go down only one floor before she’s opening the door and moving into a hallway. The building looks to be a old fashioned dorm, most of the doors open to show off empty rooms. Beds without bedding and empty closets with doors wide open. The whole building feels like it’s faded with time, full of life once and now just sparsely used. The faded sunshine coming in through curtains that had long since lost their original color, the soft carpet that seemed to sag under its own weight, the smell of a old home. It all was almost washed out, like a wrung out washcloth. 

 

It’s in one of these empty rooms that Fuuka’s ducking into, opening the door and holding it open for Akechi to follow her in. 

 

This room is one, the  _ only _ one, that’s clearly lived in, neat flannel sheets tucked up in hospital corners and a desk that’s organized. There’s a dog bed by the nightstand, full of white dog hair, and a cork board on the wall with pinned up letters and things to do. There’s a whiteboard right by the cork board with a calendar written out. 

 

It’s clearly Ken’s room, with a laundry hamper filled with orange and yellow shirts and a picture on the desk that had a much younger Ken in the middle of a pack of teenagers. 

 

“Sit on the bed. I need to see what you’ve done to yourself.” Fuuka’s already pulling things out of her pockets, laying them on the neat desk. “I got a very brief message while you were on the way over, but I need to know how badly your side has been injured.” 

 

Akechi simply sighs, and undoes the school blazer to slip it off his arms. Even with just his undershirt, Fuuka’s already frowning at the white gauze that shows bright under the thin fabric. 

 

It’s a struggle to get off the undershirt, but Akechi manages with minimal pain. 

 

Fuuka’s face gets a pinched look to it as she immediately goes to those bandages, quick deft fingers catching the end and gently undoing the white gauze. 

 

“You’ve wrapped this too tightly.” Her voice is soft as she chastising him, not judgemental but simply reminding. 

 

When she reaches the end of the bandage Akechi can hear the little intake of breath Fuuka makes. It’s not a pretty sight, he knows, it’s a decent sized gash with black and blue marks already forming around it. The blood has long since stopped, the only fresh ooze coming from where the scab had been pulled off with the wrap. 

 

“What did you  _ do? _ ” Fuuka’s asking, her voice small and faint as she reaches for a small kit on the desk. 

 

“I’m a police detective Miss, my job gets dangerous.” It’s an excuse that’s worked before, on more than one person. 

 

Fuuka however doesn't look terribly convinced, she has a little furrow between her brows as she threads a needle. 

 

—

 

Ken’s tired and sweaty after ‘helping Akihiko get the helicopter clean’ turned into a ‘Akihiko wants to playfully spar,  _ survive _ ’. Koromaru’s panting, having tapped out after a few heavy rounds to sit on the side and commentate with happy barking. 

 

Ken pushes the door of his room open, ready to throw himself down and sleep for a week, but stops at the unfamiliar sight. 

 

Akechi’s  _ asleep _ , wearing an old blue shirt that might have been Junpei’s in high school and a pair of flannel pajama pants. Fuuka sits on his desk, sipping tea out of one of the two tea cups and scrolling through her phone. 

 

She looks up at the sound of a door opening, before getting off the desk with nary and sound and moving towards the door. She gently places a hand on Ken’s shoulder and directs him to the hallway, closing the door behind him. 

 

“His ribs are broken.” She says, matter of factly. “He has at least two fractures, heavy bruising, and a cut I had to sew up, seven stitches.” 

 

“ _ Yikes _ .” Ken says under his breath, glancing back at his closed door. 

 

“I put a dose of sleeping aid into the tea as I made it, he’ll be out cold for the night, he needed rest. I gave him some of your pjs, I told him they were simply extra but I think he saw through my ruse to try and make him feel better.”

 

Fuuka pauses for a moment, eyes cutting from the door to Ken now, sharp as the scalpels she works with. “He’s a very pleasant boy, Ken.” 

 

That means she’s adopted him, she had seen something she liked underneath the exterior that Akechi always portrayed. Fuuka’s always has had a big heart. Her large heart isn’t a weakness though, because Ken knows that if the two half brothers ever do wrong to the other and Fuuka hears about it both Akechi and him are  _ dead where they stand.  _

 

_ “ _ Thank you, Fuuka.” Ken says, truly thankful. “I know it was your day off, but he really was hurt.” 

 

Fuuka laughs, the sound like a silver bell, and waves away Ken’s worries. “I’m happy to help, really, I sometimes feel so bored up in that hospital all day. This was a nice break, to get to see you and Akihiko, to meet your family.” 

 

Ken goes red around the ears again, looking away and at the floor at Fuuka’s words. 

 

“I was even thinking of speeding up the healing,” Fuuka’s still got laughter in her eyes, “it’s been  _ so long _ since I’ve used my persona after all.” 

 

Ken does snort at her joke, just a single bark of laughter. Fuuka worked in a hospital as a doctor, she did surgery for a living, it wasn’t uncommon for her to use her persona at the end of the day and just send a few ‘ _ media _ ’ spells at the people who needed them the most. She was an excellent doctor, but her patients always remembered her for their quick recovery times. 

 

She rolls her eyes at Ken trying to retain his laughter, and pats his shoulder. “I’ll go downstairs to summon it, don’t want to wake my patient up before eight hours after all. Take good care of him tomorrow, he should be able to go to school the day after.” 

 

Ken nods, that makes sense. “If things go terribly wrong I always have  _ Samarecarm _ .” 

 

Fuuka laughs, “ _ Morbid _ Ken.” 

 

Ken simply shrugs, it was true. It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had yanked somebody back from just beyond the brink.  _ Samarecarm  _ was a very useful persona ability. 

 

Fuuka gives one final pat, moving to go down the stairwell. “Take a shower and go to bed Ken, you’re on patient duty tomorrow.” 

 

Ken sticks his tongue out at her, getting a eye roll and a laugh in return. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey remember when this was just for fun?
> 
> yeah neither do i


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it,,, the fic,,, is 50 pages,,, oh my god

 

 

> _**If we do not maintain justice, justice will not maintain us.** _
> 
>  

* * *

 

 

Akechi wakes up feeling the best he’s felt in _years_.

 

The bed’s soft, warm heavy blankets weigh down his weary bones and the softest shirt he’s ever worn. The sunlight streams through faded blue curtains, the smells of something delicious comes in and is what ultimately wakes Akechi up. It’s a beautiful morning.

 

Immediately Akechi sits straight up.

 

High alert, what’s going on? Where is he? Who’s room is this? Why is everything so fucking _soft._ Why is everything so fucking _warm._ Who is in here with him?

 

Koromaru huffs from the foot of the bed, woken up by Akechi’s movement, and it all comes rushing back. The cognitive museum, the injury, the goddamned _helicopter ride._

 

Well, Akechi now knew how Ken was able to get to Tokyo so quickly when he wanted to. Apparently working for one of the _largest corporations in the world_ had some benefits.

 

But _why_ was Ken working for the Kirijo Group? What the hell? How did a high schooler like Ken have access to all of the things that he had access too?

 

Akechi gets out of the most comfortable bed he’s ever spent the night in and folds the sheets back as best he can while a dog sits perfectly still at the foot. Now that Akechi’s awake and it’s the light of day, he gets his first real good actual _look_ at Ken’s dorm room. It can’t be anything _other_ than Ken’s, with the orange hoodie that had worn elastic on the sleeves hung up behind the door and a picture of Ken and Koromaru pined carefully to the corkboard. The rug on the floor is an ugly blue green, and there’s a shelf that has long since been filled past its max capacity.

 

The books are all things for school, there's only a few ones for pleasure reading down at the end by the window. Akechi’s not above snooping, he is a detective after all, and so it takes him no time at all to case this room like a crime scene. Koromaru’s got one lazy eye trained on Akechi has he roams around the room, the dog ever watchful for his master.

 

The desk just is normal, revealing a laptop that Akechi doesn't have the time to go through. The books are all normal. The closet just holds normal clothes, taped up boxes labeled with things like ‘Shinjiro’s’ and ‘Old Things’. The only thing strange about the closet was how _clean_ it was for a teenage boy living on his own. The TV just had a single game system on it with a DVD player tucked behind it, a small collection of games and movies on the shelf right below.

 

Akechi’s running out of places to look.

 

He sighs, and prays a moment to not find anything too weird.

 

Underneath the bed was surprisingly baren, clean. The only thing that’s underneath the bed is a long container that has small roller wheels. There is nothing of the more … traditional skeezy variety. Thank god.  The container is half transparent, so Akechi can tell that it holds what look to be dowels? Long sticks? The underneath is too clean, this container must be pulled out pretty often. It’s an easy reach to grab and pull the container out, its surprisingly heavy as Akechi drags it out. Whatever’s inside is made of metal, clanking around as Akechi moves it to the light. The container had snaps that keep the lid on, and it takes Akechi less than five seconds to figure out how to get the lid off.

 

Wow.

 

Subjectively weirder than porno mags, and with way less explanation as to why it’s underneath a bed.

 

Spears.

 

Spears of all kinds of shape and size. Sharp, the gleam of the blades deadly in the morning light. The spears have worn fingerprints into the leather-bound handels, each blade was very carefully constructed from high quality stuff, these aren't the kinds of spears used in traditional dances, these spears are _weapons_ . They’ve been used and loved for a long time, Akechi can tell that much from the way it looks like Ken’s handprints have moulded themselves into each one. Akechi doesn't know why the hell Ken chose a _spear_ of all things to have hidden away like this, clearly used and well loved, and frankly it just brings up more question than answers.

 

Akechi puts the lid back on, and slides the weapons back underneath the bed where they belong.

 

Akechi pulls himself back up, halfway through the motion he looks and sees Koromaru’s very unimpressed face.

 

Is, is the dog giving him an disgusted look? Are dogs even capable of judging people? Koromaru sure as hell was giving him a judging look.

 

“Piss off dog, I’m _investigating_.”

 

Koromaru rolls his eyes and gives out a huff, standing up to stretch.

 

Koromaru hops of the bed and strolls to the door, opening it with a scratch of claws.

 

The smell of food comes stronger now with the door open, the sound of a person moving through the kitchen and a radio playing low. Akechi follows the dog out of the room to see Koromaru had waited for him at the end of the stairs, impatiently tapping his tail.

 

Akechi follows Koromaru downwards to the bottom floor, to the large kitchen that's just off the large common area.

 

There really is no other people in this whole place, not a soul was living here besides Ken and Koromaru. The couch only had one spot that was worn, the one right beside it filled with dog hair. The whole space was practically dead besides from the spots of life that Ken clearly used often.

 

It seemed very lonely.

 

Living all alone in a building like this.

 

Ken’s in the kitchen, he’s scrambling eggs and listening along to a bluetooth speaker that he’s placed on the counter. The rice in the cooker is already done, it’s just Ken making the eggs and veggies now. Ken turns when Akechi steps on the bottom step, a creak alerting Ken that people are walking down the stairs.

 

“Oh!” Ken smiles, almost a real smile, and turns back to the cooking. “I’m just finishing up here, breakfast will be ready shortly. I usually just eat in the living room or my own dorm, but you can sit wherever you want to.”

 

Akechi nods. “Thank you.”

 

The two of them end up sitting on the couch together, eating quietly as the music from the speaker continues to play. Koromaru’s sitting at their feet, sitting against Ken’s shins and lazily begging for food occasionally. Ken never gave the old dog any, insisting that Koromaru couldn’t have human food. Akechi only gave up half an egg to the dog’s puppy-dog eyes, sneaking the food to Koromaru when Ken wasn’t looking. If the old dog hadn’t judged him earlier then he might have gotten more.

 

Akechi finishes up the food, placing the chopsticks down. “Ken. May I ask, how am I going to explain to my school why I am not there today?”

 

Ken looks up mid-chew, chopsticks still in his mouth. It takes a second, but Ken swallows and puts his own utensils down. “I’m getting an excuse from Fuuka, for your ribs.”

 

“My ribs that don’t hurt anymore.” Akechi brings up that point. “Healed, almost _magically_ , overnight.”

 

Ken simply raises an eyebrow.

 

“What kind of painkillers did you give to me?” Akechi asks. If he has to go back to the pain of broken ribs after this kind of brief respite then he’ll actually might beg for that kind of medicine again, for more trips into the metaverse in the future.

 

“Normal ones, don’t worry. Fuuka just gave you regular ibuprofen.” Ken takes his plate and stands up, going to go put it into the sink. Ken holds a hand out, gesturing to Akechi’s plate. Akechi hands over the dirty dish and trails after Ken as he heads into the kitchen.

 

“I’ve taken regular ibuprofen before, and I am happy to inform you that what I took from Fuuka was not the normal dose.” Akechi knows that he could down double the dose of those over the counter painkillers and those things not even put a _dent_ into the throbbing burn.

 

“So this has happened before?” Ken asks, pausing in pouring soap over the dishes to allow them to soak. “You getting hurt like this?”

 

Akechi’s eyes narrow, unhappy that Ken picked up on something that he should not have. “What’s it to you? It doesn't interfere with what I do, why does it matter?”

 

“I'm your brother.” Ken says, turning to face Akechi more wholly. “It’s natural for me to worry about you, and your goddamn _broken ribs-_ ”

 

“They were not _broken_ .” Akechi grabs at the place where the gash has been wrapped up nicely. “I am walking around, standing straight without pain, My ribs are _fine._ ”

 

Something in Akechi breaks, something emotionally that's built up to far and just is bubbling under his skin.

 

Nobody was _nice_ to Akechi. Nobody offered their bed, nobody offered their home, their food. Akechi was a _terrible_ person who did terrible things, he broke people to get to where he was. He broke their minds into shatters and was _not_ regretful about it. Every single person that he killed helped Akechi claw and bite and _fight_ his way to where he was not. Not a single person before let Akechi sleep late and eat casually on the couch and call their doctor friend to help out Akechi when he’s injured. Akechi was used to fighting on his own terms, patching himself up and holding himself strong and steady.

 

Akechi didn’t _need_ Ken.

 

Ken was just another fucking _headache_ that got added onto Akechi’s life.

 

Akechi could live perfectly _fine_ how he’s been living. He has survived everything the metaverse threw at him. He’s put his own insides back after battles that he couldn't win, Akechi’s stitched himself back together and smiled the next day at an interview. This _kindness_ was not meant for a person like him, this kind of _dependency_ made a person weak.

 

Akechi was many things, but he was not _weak_.

 

“I’m not your brother, either. We’ve known each other for a month. I’ve lived eighteen _fucking_ years without you in my life. I’m not going to be swayed to your side simply because you’re nice to me. I don’t _need_ this. I don’t _need_ you.”

 

Akechi’s hands grip hard on the counter. He’s desperately trying to stuff the overflowing emotions back into the depths of his chest, trying to contain Robin Hood’s hands pounding at his recently patched together ribs, trying to keep Loki from tearing out his heart and ripping it to shreds.

 

It’s _hard_. Akechi’s so fucking tired. He just wants to continue to sleep, forever, in a bed that was as warm as the one he woke up in. Akechi wants to rely on the people around him like Ken does, but who does he have around him besides the barest scrapes of relationships with people who only tolerate him because he’s built his entire reputation on lies. Akechi’s so used to the masks that he wears in everyday conversation that when the mask cracks too many things rush out at once.

 

“I know you don’t need me.”

 

Akechi looks up sharply at that, sees Ken’s jaw go into a hard line as his brother’s shoulders go stiff.

 

“I know you and me haven’t known each other long. I know that our whole relationship is built on a single man. I know that I don’t know how this whole _sibling_ thing is meant to work.” Ken looks away, hiding in his long bangs and his hands going to worry at the elastic at the wrist of his shirt sleeves. “But damn it, Goro, I’m _trying_.”

 

Akechi’s first thought, the first thing that gets brought unbidden to his mind is ‘ _don’t, I’m not worth your effort_ ’ That thought gets strangled quickly enough, Akechi trying desperately to put all the emotions spilling out from a moment of weakness back into the ridged places they belong.

 

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, I’m not a mind reader. But I know that I don’t have anyone that I can call family anymore and I think you’re in the same boat. We don’t have to be perfect siblings Goro, but can we at least try and get somewhere where we’re both comfortable? I don’t know how much I can trust you, I don’t know how much I can ask of you, but I want you to trust me, and I want you to be comfortable asking things of me.” Ken looks Akechi in the eye now, determined. “I know we’re not full brothers, but I _don’t_ want to lose the little bit of family I have left.”

 

Silence.

 

Ken and Akechi stand in the kitchen of a dorm that’s too large for just the two of them simply staring at each other. Ken’s eyes have a watery buildup of unshed tears of _frustration_ . Akechi’s just waiting for the point that the screaming starts, where Ken’s frustration leads to Akechi being kicked out and left to his own devices again. Ken’s shoulders are shaking with the rolling emotions, Akechi’s not much better, still holding onto his middle like maybe he can soften the blow that he _knows_ is going to come eventually.

 

Family only caused pain, in the end. Akechi’s family _destroyed_ him. They tore him up and spat him back out at the absolute rock bottom. Akechi had no money, still doesn't have any, he had no name, no way to _live_. Family was a terrible thing that only tore at him, drained him of all the hope he once had. Akechi loved his mother dearly and he found her hanging in their apartment. Akechi wanted to love his father but Shido immediately disregarded and brushed off the child that was legally his. Akechi couldn’t put his trust, his heart, into a brother that would betray him. Akechi couldn't put his trust into a brother that worked for an organization that was surrounded in more questions than answers.

 

Ken was shrouded in mystery. Akechi knew Ken on only the most base level. They talked about nothing most of the time, things only about as deep as the weather or what occured in their day. They didn’t trust one another, not at all. Ken had his secrets, had friends in high places and a secret hidden spear collection under his bed. Ken could snap his fingers and people would _do_ things. Akechi, well, Akechi had killed people.Akechi could use a persona and go into people's minds like the deadliest kind of scalpel and make them cause accidents that disrupted and caused terror.  

 

Akechi wasn’t going to admit that to Ken, and that was the problem. To get more information on Ken Akechi would need to give something away. Akechi and Ken had the same kind of mind, they would never give away something that they wouldn't get in return with added interest. The two of them needed to give something, and they each knew that they wouldn’t do that.

 

It was an impasse. Ken and Akechi both knew this.

 

“I’m sorry.” Akechi says, finally, after a silence that lasted far too long.

 

Ken sighs. “Yeah. Me too.”

 

* * *

 

Akechi changes into the clothes he wore yesterday. Ken had run them through the small washer and dryer that the dorm had. The unfamiliar detergent was soft and smelt like green apples, Akechi found himself enjoying the smell.

 

The shower was a stall based kind of system, with plenty of hot water to waste and a basket full of various shampoos and conditioners and body washes. The whole basket was clearly shampoos and conditioners from other people that got thrown into a huge mix. Ken didn’t seem to really have strong feelings towards one kind of soap or another.

 

The bandages have to come off for the shower, and Akechi’s careful when he unwraps them. He’s not looking forward to see the injury, but he’ll have to try and keep it relatively dry if he doesn't want it to get infected.

 

Akechi takes a deep breath and looks down at his ribs.

 

Well.

 

That's not right.

 

Well okay, the skin _does_ look right, and that's the problem.

 

There is _no_ bruise, no discoloration or pain. The large gash that was there last night now is just a soft scab, almost looking ready to fall off and reveal the soft new pink skin of a scar underneath. This wasn’t right. Injuries like the one Akechi had didn’t just _heal_ overnight. The kind of hit that Akechi took normally took about a _week_ before Akechi stopped feeling the need to cry when he moved, let alone heal this far.

 

What the hell had Fuuka _done_ to him?

 

* * *

 

“A car’s going to come for us around three.” Ken informs when Akechi strolls into the living area of the dorm after his long shower, “I’ll be headed to Tokyo alongside you.”

 

“No helicopter this time?” Akechi asks, curious.   


“Sadly no, Akihiko is leaving the country again tomorrow, and he’s not avalible to give us rides. Ken sighs, “He’ll come back soon though, so that’ll be fun to see what kind of souvenir he brings back.”

 

This is the kind of small talk they usually did, this kind of base level back and forth. Akechi knew it, Ken knew it. Both of them wanted to get further than this, but was unsure _how_.

 

An uncomfortable silence hangs over the living room, Ken’s hand threading through Koromaru’s soft fur while Akechi tries not to fiddle with the things around him. Ken looks distinctly uncomfortable, unsure of what to do next. Akechi debates it for a second, before deciding to reach out with an olive branch.

 

“What did Miss. Fuuka do to me?”

 

Ken startles, his hand diggs a little deeper into Koromaru’s fur. Ken’s eyes widen, look away for only half a second, before something makes Ken’s shoulders square up in a kind of firm realization. “She healed you. To the best of her ability. The Kirijo Group has her looking into medicine like that, to help people get back on their feet faster. I asked if she could help you, and she could.”

 

Akechi knows that what Ken just said was a lie, but it was only a partial one. There was truth in that statement however, and that was a good enough start.


	6. Chapter 6

> ****Justice is the constant and perpetual will to allot to every man his due.** **

 

"What  _ was  _ that place?" Yusuke asked, eyes wide and legs shaky as he looks up at the people around him. 

 

" _ That _ , that was something we need to discuss over dinner." Akira says, hauling Yusuke up and steadying him as the tall artist got his feet back from under him. 

 

Yusuke nods, accepting that, "Yes, of course" 

 

The place they go is someplace simple, someplace close. The restaurant wasn't full yet, but it wasn't incredibly busy either, it was the perfect kind of place to relax and fade into the background. Yusuke sits right next to Akira, still a little dazed, and Ryuji and Ann sit next to one another on the opposite side, ready to back Akira up if he needs it. 

 

They explain to Yusuke about the metaverse, they tell him about what the Phantom Thieves were doing, about their crusade to change the hearts of people who desperately need the change of heart that the Phantom Thieves give out. 

 

They ask Yusuke to join them, ask him to be apart of their fledgling team, and he looks at the three of them, the four of them as he looks at Morgana and realizes that this cat was the same one that was apart of their team-up in the metaverse against the shadows that Yusuke had to desperately run from in the beginning. The shadows that Yusuke had to dodge desperately before he got his own power, before he felt his fingertips freeze and the icy power burn within his core and he summoned the deepest part of himself and fought desperately against his sensei. 

 

Yusuke agrees, desperate to find out  _ why _ the man who raised him said such horrible things to him. 

 

Akira, Ann, and Ryuji shake on it, welcoming Yusuke to the team. 

 

* * *

 

The calling card to Madarame goes viral, as it does when they post it everywhere around a famous art exhibit, when the Phansite displays it loud and proud on the homepage. The internet goes wild, they speculate, they ask questions, they want to know whos going to win this fight. 

 

The correct answer to the bet between the two warring parties was the Phantom Thieves, as they took that painting right from Madarame's soul and displayed it proudly on the empty wall in a soft coffee shop on a forgotten backstreet in Tokyo. But of course most people don’t know  _ that _ fact.

 

The internet explodes again, asking questions that they demand answers too, they want to know. They want to know how, why, and mostly  _ who _ . 

 

Akechi watches, as Madarame gets put into prison, the single child under his care gets a single check that goes into a bank account that the child artist can't touch until he turns eighteen and disappears back into the crowd. Yusuke Kitagawa is someone that Akechi knows about, how could he  _ not _ ? He's studied up on Madarame, he's seen the horrible paintings up on the walls Madarame's museum of greed. He took notes on all the faces and names he saw plastered up there as 'properties' and 'masterpieces' and he's looked into every single one of them. 

 

Kitagawa is the artist that stood out the most because of how  _ long _ he had been in Madarame’s care. 

 

The Phantom Thieves popularity shoots up, because they unveiled a person that did horrible terrible things and of course Akechi gets  _ backlash _ . Akechi see’s new comments on his food blog about how terrible he was, how awful his hateful comments were, how Akechi should  _ die _ . 

 

Akechi simply moves on, deletes those comments, and continues onwards like he always had. 

 

Akechi catches sight of the suspected leader of the Phantom Thieves, a Mr. Akira Kurusu, chatting casually at the trainstation with the skinny artist who had been caught up with the whole debacle. The two of them are smiling, chatting, and Kitagawa is much too close. He’s waving his arms and talking about something Akechi can’t hear. 

 

Akechi moves closer, trying to be within earshot without being seen. 

 

“-the shadows have caused a great deal of inspiration!” Kitagawa is saying as Kurusu’s laughing. “I think all of our individual persona’s are something I would love to draw one day-!”  

 

Akechi moves away, because now he  _ knows _ that Kitagawa is in on it, that the Phantom Thieves are who he thinks they are and that they are  _ actively recruiting _ . 

 

Akechi catches his train, all the while with a smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

> “ **_You’re in a good mood today, Goro-nii”_ **
> 
>  
> 
> “ **_Oh? Am I?_ ** ” 
> 
>  
> 
> “ **_You haven’t told me to shut up once today! ٩(●ᴗ●)۶”_ **
> 
>  
> 
> **_“Is ,,, is that how you judge my mood?”_ **

 

Akechi frowns, cocking his head tapping his finger twice on his desk as the lunch break continues on. Ken and himself had been texting most of the day, talking about things deeper than just the weather for once. 

 

> “ **_（⌒▽⌒） lmao  I can read the tone of ur texts most of the time. When you tell me to shut up it's usually because im getting on your nerves.”_ **

 

Akechi gives it to Ken then, sometimes Ken  _ does _ get on his nerves. Ken’s moods range wildly from trying to hard to be happy to radio silence when he’s mad. Akechi’s not a fan of it when Ken’s clearly not happy but trying to put on the  _ air _ of being happy, and it just makes Akechi irritated and they both spiral into a horrible mood. 

 

> “ **_I’ve gotten a breakthrough in my case.”_ **

 

That’s close enough to the truth for Ken and his new ‘honestly clause’ of this shaky foundation that might be friendship. 

 

> “ **_Tell me about it? Is it the Phantom Thieves case?”_ **

 

The teacher calls for the classes attention, the break is over. Get back to your seats students it’s time to be quiet. 

 

Akechi’s hands type out ‘ _ yes’ _ before his brain catches up to him and deletes the message. He shouldn’t tell Ken about this, he doesn't have any real evidence to back him up yet, all he has is vague ideas and hunches and  _ a world that shouldn’t exist _ . 

 

Akechi has no real way to explain to Ken how he  _ knows _ who the Phantom Thieves are without making Ken think Akechi’s lying to him and making up this whole huge bullshit story just to get out of telling the truth. So now there's a conundrum. 

 

Should Akechi tell Ken  _ where _ he thinks the Phantom Thieves are? But he has nothing to back that up either, besides a vague idea he’s already shared with the general public. The whole public is looking at Shujin Academy students with a critical eye and a judgemental tone. 

 

> “ **_I don’t think I can share that with you just yet.”_ **

 

The teacher has a pause in their speech that makes Akechi look up and slip his phone back into his desk. The teacher’s looking at him with a sharp side glare, like he knows that Akechi is breaking the rules but he can’t actually pin him yet. 

 

Akechi mentally apologizes for the way that conversation ended, and goes back to paying attention to a class he already knew everything in already. 

 

* * *

 

The office that Shido works in is high class. 

 

High enough class to make Akechi’s skin crawl. It’s fake in how amazingly dripping with wealth an office like this was. The man himself was in a meeting, but he had requested Akechi to be in his office to talk with after school that day, to be there at seven thirty sharp so that Shido could squeeze talking to Akechi in between two meetings as he stops by his office for ten minutes. Akechi had gotten here early because he had hoped that he wouldn’t miss the office’s free assortment of fancy little lunchtime snacks, but alas that hope was in vain. It was too late, and now Akechi was a whole ten minutes early to a meeting he didn’t want to actually have. 

 

The only person who’s keeping him company is Shido’s secretary, a nice man whose hair went grey early and whose hands shake as he files away paperwork. He reminds Akechi of that nice woman at the police office, the main desk worker who’s hair is the same shade, who has the tendency to wear the same color blue, and whose eyes are just on that eerie edge of yellow. 

 

The secretary, oh goodness what was his name again? Something with a T?, had looked at Akechi as he walked in and saw how Akechi’s eyes lingered on that basket that had all the lunchtime snacks. The secretary had pulled out candy that was always hidden behind his desk, the same kind of candy that the woman at the police station had, with the white base and the blue circle in the middle, and he had offered Akechi one. 

 

Akechi unwrapped the candy slowly, thanking the man the entire time, and popped the candy in his mouth. 

 

Shido walks into his office not a moment later, barking at someone behind him as a group of people scurry away. He's clearly not in a super good mood, the vein in his forehead is throbbing and his whole face is a ruddy red color. Shido is  _ pissed _ . 

 

“My whole operation is in  _ jeopardy”  _ Shido faces Akechi with a fury, his tone is low and sharp, ready to attack. “This Phantom Thieves business is bad for  _ my  _ business.” 

 

Akechi says nothing, continuing to suck on the candy and watches as his father fumes around his office, pacing around and looking all the world like a caged animal ready to pounce. 

 

“I need everything tightened up, I need the contact  _ everyone _ I have under me and I need to keep this ship running smoothly and shit like this messes up the whole operation!” Shido finally sits down after pacing the office twice, nearly throwing himself into the too nice office chair. 

 

Shido’s silently fuming, and clearly isn’t going to continue this conversation, so Akechi raises on eyebrow and asks, “Is this you asking me to get rid of the Phantom Thieves?”

 

Shido exhales loudly, his fingers clenching so hard on the desk that Akechi thinks he can see the indent that his fingers leave. The man’s mad, yes, but he’s always calculating, he’s always thinking, he’s always trying to stay eight steps ahead of his opponents. 

 

“Not  _ yet _ .” Shido hisses, eyes unfocused as if he can see the chessboard laid out in front of him instead of just picturing it perfectly in his mind. “I can still use those pesky fucking thieves for  _ something _ .” 

 

Akechi hums non-committedly, knowing that his father will most likely wait until he can use the Phantom Thieves to be the scapegoat for something later, sometime later when Akechi can twist some evidence around to his favor and present it to the public in a pretty package. 

 

“I need  _ you _ ,” Shido’s pulling out a pen from his top drawer, yanking his notepad down, “to keep tabs on the looser ends of the ship I’m running. I need everything to be perfect, I can’t allow things to go haywire this late in the game.” 

 

Akechi holds out his hand, and Shido slams the paper down so forcefully that Akechi can feel the creak of his bones in his wrist. Akechi doesn't like Shido see him wince though, doesn't let Shido see that Akechi got hurt because of him, because all Shido will do is take the anger he’s feeling right now and  _ hurt _ the people around him. 

 

The piece of paper in his hand is just a list of names. 

 

“Check up on every single one of those people,  _ kill  _ them if they step one toe out of line.” 

 

Akechi feels the candy in his mouth finally dissolves, and stands. 

 

“Of course. I’ll get right on that.” Akechi agrees, eyes still looking over the names. 

 

It’s not until Akechi’s almost to the door that Shido says, “Wait one moment, actually.” 

 

Akechi does, pausing for a second near the silent secretary. 

 

“My backers have been fluctuating recently because of the very vocal lack of support from the Kirijo Group. I need dirt on that company, on the CEO, on anyone I can. Get that company either on my side or silent. Understand?” 

 

Akechi cocks his head, looking back over his shoulder and narrowing his eyes. “We’ve already tried that before. Kirijo doesn't have a metaverse location I can infiltrate.” 

 

“I don’t care how you get what I need. I just need you to do it, I will not take no for an answer.” With that, Shido focused his attention back onto the once neat paperwork on his desk. 

 

Well. 

 

Kirijo Group? Akechi guesses that’s convenient enough for him. Akechi was planning on looking more into that group anyway. He’s actually planning on interrogating the two known connections to the group that he has recently been made aware of. He knows that he’s going to work on friday, skipping school with a smile and a wave at the faculty because they all know that he’s only attending classes for something to do during the day. 

 

Akechi needs more information on Ken, on the Kirijo Group and he’s going to get it, one way or another this time. He doesn't have to brute force his way into trying to find something this time, he’s not on the outside looking into an impenetrable fortress, he’s managed to slip his way inside to smile at the guards around him and ask  _ just _ the right questions. 

 

He just needs to find the right combination of questions to ask, doesn't he?

 

* * *

 

Akechi’s school is really going to be the death of him. He barely hangs around here for a reason, he hates the people around him and he think’s the teachers don’t even bother with him anymore. Akechi’s shown them about the same amount of respect they show him. 

 

He’s debating skipping English and just citing police work as the reason he desperately needed to not be here right now, but that required actually calling into work and asking to get a note excusing him from school.  

 

The only real break in his day was texting, sadly. 

 

Akechi hated the fact that the buzzing of his phone was the thing he looked forward to the most during these long school days. It used to be that Akechi  _ could _ pay attention in class, could manage to actually look like he gave a shit, but now that he has a single distraction he’s found just how hard it is to pay attention. 

 

> “ **_I have training with Yukari today, ugh, I’m gonna be tired when I finally get back to dorm later.”_ **
> 
>  
> 
> “ **_What kind of training? Soccer?”_ **
> 
>  
> 
> “ **_\\(・∀・) You know I do soccer? Lmao! Nah I do traditional spear handling every other day, yeah i know, an old man sport,,, (;´Д`)”_ **

 

Akechi thinks back, that explains the whole armory under his bed. It’s not something that’s really easy to get into however, and it's a strange habit to just take up. Ken was right, it was something that you saw older students get into, people really ingrained in tradition.

 

> “ **_How’d you get into that? Are you in kendo?”_ **
> 
>  
> 
> “ **_I can’t handle a sword for my life lmao. I’ve been using a spear since I was little, took it up in elementary school.”_ **
> 
>   
>    
> 

Akechi thinks back to the picture on the desk in Ken’s room, of a small Ken surrounded by people older than him, all wearing the same arm band. 

 

Ken’s past is still a fuzzed out grey mystery to Akechi, there’s aspects of it that Akechi does know but most of the finer details have been obscured by non-answers and straight up lies sometimes, but Akechi’s done the same thing more than once. Avoided Ken wanting to know too much about him. 

 

But Akechi is very tired, and it’s always much easier to tell the truth anyway. 

 

So Akechi simply continues on with the conversation, and ignores the little dark voice in his heart that tells him not to let anyone know anything about him. 

 

* * *

 

Akechi walks into the police station, his briefcase is full of notes on the case that’s being discussed around the office, as well as his personal notes on other cases that are being investigated. His school uniform gathers no attention now, as Akechi’s a common sight around here at the time on fridays. It’s raining outside today, so the umbrella gets stashed with all the others at the front desk with the nice secretary, who offers him some candy. 

 

Akechi thanks her, and unwraps the candy (the white kind, with the blue circle) in the elevator. He pops the candy in his mouth when the elevator opens again and lets in a group of officers who just got in from the day shift of the streets. 

 

These guys are mostly meter cops, and they’re incredibly nice as they recognize Akechi and ask how his day is going. The four of them chat a little more about how absolute dreary this kind of weather was, really, before the officers get off at a different floor. 

 

The floor that Akechi gets off at is just a floor above the regular officers, the true investigative unit. 

 

Akechi makes a beeline for Shirogane's office, going there to drop off his things before finding Niijima somewhere in the depths of the prosecution offices and talking with her about the Phantom Thieves case. Since Akechi wasn’t  _ actually _ a hired detective yet (think more along the lines of an incredibly well respected intern), he didn’t have his own operating space, and had to share with the people who actually worked full time here. 

 

Shirogane was  _ in _ her office, typing something up on her computer when Akechi walked in. 

 

She looks up at the sound of the door opening, and her alert posture goes into a more lax one. “Hello Akechi, doing well?” 

 

Akechi nods, “First time I’ve seen you around in a while, been away?” 

 

Shirogane huffs, her hands pausing over the keys and running through her short-cut hair. “I’ve been running around for the past couple of days, an old friend wanted case files from a cold case from years ago so I had to go around trying to collect them all.” 

 

Akechi remembers his first foray into the field, pouring himself over case after case trying to find how the detectives did what they did and how Akechi himself could do  _ better _ . It was miserable work, going back on old files and looking over everything from a position of hindsight. It's always a game of ‘what if’s’ and ‘maybes’. 

 

Shirogane leans on her hands now, smiling. “Oh Akechi, it wasn’t that bad don’t make that face.” 

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Akechi says, gracefully placing his things behind the desk on the extra table that he always placed it. 

 

Shirogane laughs, and gets up. “I’m going to take a quick break from this write-up to bug Yosuke into getting me some coffee from the vending machine. Want to come with me?” 

 

Akechi thinks about it for a moment, before nodding. He’s always down to get food, and he  _ knows _ from previous experience that Hanamura has a terrible tendency to simply pay for his friends meals. Shirogane once remarked that it was ‘an old habit’ of his, but Akechi simply took it at face value and accepted the food that Hanamura pushed into his hands occasionally. 

 

The department has a decent amount of people milling around, moving from place to place and getting things done. Shirogane waves at a few people, giving baseline greetings as she moved to the stairs. 

 

The forensic lab was lower in the building, and walking down the stairs is much nicer than having to walk up them. Shirogane’s quick on her feet, talking and walking at the same time. Akechi has long legs, but even with his height advantage it’s a struggle to keep up with her sometimes. 

 

“So, what did you get up too while I was gone?” She’s asking him, taking the stairs almost two at a time. 

 

“Nothing much,” Akechi answers honestly, “I’ve shadowed Sae Niijima on a few forays into questioning the people who have interacted with the Phantom Thieves, but sadly that’s a case that’s not going anywhere fast.”

 

The forensic lab needs a card to get into, and Shirogane swipes hers while she’s turning to give Akechi a disbelieving eyebrow. “ _ The _ Sae Niijima has nothing to show for her questioning of criminals? She’s usually so persuasive in getting them to give up the act.” 

 

Akechi shrugs, “The two ‘victims’ of the Phantom Thieves say that they honestly don’t remember any interaction with the group.” 

 

Shirogane turns forward again, and Akechi can tell that she still has questions rattling around in that head of hers. 

 

Yosuke Hanamura was in his own office when the two of them knock and enter. His feet are on his desk and he’s on his phone, tapping away at some game. 

 

“Yousuke, what are you doing?” Shirogane asks, voice flat. 

 

Hanamura doesn't even take his feet off the desk, he just flashes Shirogane the game he was playing on his phone and gets right back to it. “I’m playing Yu in a mobile game while I wait for my results to get back. I’m winning.” 

 

Shirogane walks over to him and yanks his feet off his desk. 

 

Hanamura laughs, and clicks off of his game. “What can I do ya for Naoto, Akechi.” 

 

“Come and get coffee with us?” Shirogane asks, already reaching to pull Hanamura up from his chair. Hanamura goes up with her pulling, following her lead and then pretending to let gravity take a hold of him and lean heavily on his much shorter friend. Shirogane punches him once, hard, in the kidneys and he gives a truly impressive death rattle as he actually stumbles. 

 

The three leave the cramped office, Hanamura rubbing at his sore back as Shirogane strolls happily by his side. 

 

The breakroom down in forensics is acknowledged to be better than the one that the police officers get in the upper floors, as the vending machines down here actually have drinks with so much caffeine it’ll stop your heart. Hanamura once said it was because forensic scientists  already are immune to the effects of coffee because of their college days. Akechi’s sure it’s because one of the other people down here bribes the delivery guy. 

 

Hanamura goes to the vending machine, and asks what the other two want. 

 

Shirogane tells him, and sits down in the break room chairs. Akechi takes a moment to look over the options and points out the coffee he would like. 

 

“So, Akechi, are you investigating the Phantom Thieves? How’d you get put on a case like that?” Shirogane asks, leaning on the table. 

 

“I’m just shadowing the main investigative head,” Akechi smiles, “I’m just more vocal about it.” 

 

“That sounds cool.” Hanamura puts the drinks down in front of them and sits, collapsing into the chair to the right of Akechi. “I’m stuck on this stupid almond case, they have so much evidence to get through that it’s frankly ridiculous.” 

 

Akechi opens his cold coffee at the same time Shirogane cracks open her soda. 

 

“I’m just glad that I’m not on the most recent debacle, the robbery with all the car mix ups?” Shirogane starts telling the other two of that case, and how it ended up with about four different people getting their cars wrecked in a parking garage. 

 

The atmosphere around the three of them is relaxed, easy coworkers just telling the others how their days have gone and which is the most recent aggression that they’ve experienced in the workplace. Shirogane has her feet propped on the feet of her chair, on the bar between the front legs, and Hanamura’s elbows are drifting closer to Akechi’s space, but their all comfortable. The conversation maybe lasts five or six minutes before Akechi’s phone buzzes and he instinctively checks it. 

 

Its Ken, who’s sent him a picture of Koromaru dressed in a soft orange hoodie and sitting respectfully at the steps of a shrine. 

 

“Oh?” Hanamura’s tone goes from relaxed and easy to teasing in an instant. “Does Akechi got a girl?” 

 

The fact is so laughable that Akechi does actually let loose a snort before he gets himself under control again. He shows the two at the table the picture he was just sent. 

 

They both lean in eagerly to take a look, and the flash of surprise that goes across both of their faces makes Akechi confused for a brief moment before Hanamura squints and asks, “Is that  _ Koromaru _ ?” 

 

They both worked closely with the Kirijo group recently, Ken had met them and taken a picture with Shirogane to prove it. But this was Koromaru, Ken’s  _ dog _ . They shouldn’t recnogize a dog of an intern. 

 

Should they? 

 

“Yes. My brother’s dog.” Akechi turns his phone back to face him and begins to look through all the photos that Ken’s sent him and selects one that shows both Ken and Koromaru’s face, smiling happily at the camera. 

 

He shows it to both Hanamura and Shirogane, looking for a reaction. 

 

They both clearly  _ know _ Ken. They seem surprised at the photo however, so they clearly don’t know Ken as well as they know each other. Hanamura seems more uncaring about Ken than Shirogane does, Akechi see’s the way her brow twitches inward for just a moment. 

 

“You and Ken are brothers? I didn’t know that.” She asks, and Akechi knows that tone, knows that careful wording. She’s fishing for something, some kind of information. Hanamura flances once at her, and focuses back on the photograph, seems like he also knows that something’s going on here. 

 

It’s always easy to forget Hanamura’s intelligence when he places himself amongst geniuses. Akechi should never forget that this is the same man who Shirogane thinks incredibly highly of, the same woman whose mind works faster than most people Akechi knows. Shirogane does  _ not  _ put up with people who are dull, and Hanamura’s managed to keep up with her most every step of the way so far. 

 

“Oh yes.” Akechi smiles, the same thousand watt fake TV smile he’s made a million times before. He’s searching through his phone for a photograph again, trying to find- ah ha! 

 

The photo is of Ken and him during the dinner when they got dropped off in Tokyo. Akechi wanted to take a picture for his food blog but Ken had insisted that they take at least one selfie together. They’re both sitting in a tiny booth, heads pressed together over the small table and smiling. It’s a good photograph, with great food in front of them and their faces almost mirrors of the other. The lighting makes both of them look a whole lot better than they felt that day, and the way Ken had angled Akechi’s phone made it so that their hair had blended together perfectly where it mixed around their ears. 

 

Shirogane’s mind clearly hops into overdrive, she obviously wasn’t aware of the fact that the two of them had been related before right now. But with a photo of the two of them together right in front of her its obvious that the two of them are related  _ somehow _ . 

 

“We’re brothers, the two of us.” Akechi continues, looking at Shirogane, “We didn’t talk much due to a family situation when we were smaller, and we’re trying to reconnect now.” 

 

Akechi is trying to sound sad, trying to garner just enough sympathy. Shirogane is usually so well put together, it’s hard to tell what she’s thinking unless you manage to really catch her off guard. “Our schedules are so busy usually that we just text back and forth, we haven’t seen each other in a while.”

 

“You don’t get to see each other?” Hanamura asks, his own voice soft. 

 

Akechi remember Hanamura has a little brother of his own, adopted later in life but still loved. He could use that angle. 

 

“Not as often as we would like. I’m tied up here with detective work and he’s interning at Kirijo Group with his friends.” 

 

Both adults have that face again, a mixture of pity and something that Akechi can’t wholly identify. Akechi hates that look. He is not a child who is to be pitied, he is not a thing they can pamper and care for. Akechi lost his soft spots years ago, he’s not one that can be handled with care anymore. 

 

“Mitsuru does look after him like he’s her own kid sometimes.” Hanamura comments, nudging Shirogane’s foot under the table. “He’s been wrapped up with them all for years, way longer than any of us.” 

 

Shirogane nods, sadly, “Ken is a very dedicated to his team, they’ve all formed very strong bonds with each other.” 

 

“God, S.E.E.S has been together since, what, we were in middle school?” Hanamura looks at Shirogane and she nods. 

 

“Since  _ 2009  _ I believe.” 

 

Akechi thinks about that, the  _ implication _ of a child being roped into a corporation that large. A corporation that deals with incredibly shady things and has incredibly controversial practices. Akechi had the idea of Ken being involved young, but  _ that _ young? He was still a child when he joined up then. 

 

S.E.E.S, where had Akechi seen that before? 

 

The flash of the red armband comes back to him, the stark black lettering that stood out on all the people who stood still for that picture on Ken’s desk. That club, the club that Ken had been apart of since he was small. 

 

That club was somehow connected to the Kirijo Group? All of them? Why?  _ Why _ . 

 

Akechi takes a step back, and mentally constructs a timeline. 

 

The timeline does not fit with what Akechi’s original theory was. If Ken really was involved with the Kirijo group that early then there was no way that Shido would have any real influence on him. Shido was  _ not _ the one who sent Ken his way. 

 

That means the  _ Kirijo Group _ was the one who found the connection between the two brothers, and honestly? That was a terrifying thought. 

 

Akechi smiles into his coffee and Hanamura and Shirogane bother each other about their respective middle school days, because Ken Amada just got a whole lot more interesting. 


	7. Chapter 7

> _**Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.** _
> 
>  

“You normally don’t ask to hang out with me.” Ken says, his voice soft and tinny through Akechi’s phone speakers. 

 

“You normally ask me, I thought I could change the  _ MO _ and ask you if you wanted to spend the weekend in Tokyo with me.” Akechi says, folding his clothes and only glancing in the direction of his phone on the bed for a second as he pairs his socks. 

 

“Ha!” Ken’s laugh is short and curt, coming right from the back of his throat. “I’ll see if I can get free from Yukari’s grasp on Saturday and head over to Tokyo.” 

 

Akechi wishes he could see Ken’s face, but they’ve been reduced to using the phone as their lives pick up and become busy. Akechi has a plan for this weekend, to get information out of his  _ brother _ . To settle some things between them. Akechi found time to be free, and offered it up to Ken while the two of them talked over speaker phone. 

 

Ken was doing homework, rambling on about math, and Akechi was doing basic chores around his home. The phone shows that their conversation has been going on for about forty-five minutes. 

 

“She’s the one who trains with you right? With the spears?” Akechi only vaguely knows of all the names of Ken’s friends, as he seemingly has an endless amount of them. 

 

“Sometimes!” A sound of a pen scratching through another completed math question comes through Ken’s end, “We’re old friends, so we sometimes just hang out. She’s really busy on the weekdays, so we usually only get to meet up on the weekends.” 

 

“Who did teach you how to use spears? I never did get that information and it seems like a hard thing to casually come across.” Akechi’s fishing, he knows that, Ken knows that, but it's also just casual enough to not give anything truly away. 

 

A pause, as Ken gathers his thoughts. Akechi folds another sock with its pair. 

 

“He used to be the chairman of my dorm, the man who gave me my first spear.” 

 

Ken’s voice is oddly subdued, soft in a way that makes Akechi think he’s intruding on something much bigger than just an old mentor. The sound of Ken’s pen on the other end has stopped. 

 

“ _ Used _ to be?” 

 

The phone’s speaker catches the way Ken takes a wobbly breath. “Yeah. Used to be.” 

 

Akechi lets the pause stretch between them, thinking about how to continue, if he even  _ wants _ to continue on with something that Ken doesn't want to reveal. 

 

Akechi pairs together another two socks, and lets the topic die in the silence between them. 

 

* * *

 

Ken shows up four hours after school has ended, his train is one of the last ones he could have caught, but It’s still technically Friday when the two of them get to Akechi’s shitty apartment and Akechi puts his key into the door. 

 

The two of them take off their shoes at the door, shoulders relaxing as both of them realize how late it is, how tired they actually are. 

 

Akechi’s got a simmering nervous energy low in his chest, knowing how his own apartment looks compared to Ken’s dorm, how this apartment is small, run down, as clean as it could be but still needing elbow grease in places that Akechi was always too tired to get at. Ken’s not looking at anything negative though, he’s looking at how this space is  _ Akechi’s _ through and through. 

 

A minimalist kind of style, with only the barest hint of life here and there. A water bottle covered to the brim with stickers from bike shops and bouldering arenas around the area, a simple fern that bloomed in the window, the neat rows of books underneath the TV. It was simple, and barren, but it showed Akechi’s own personality in a strange and muted way. 

 

“I’ve set up a second futon next to mine, I don’t have a whole lot of space.” Akechi says, quiet as to not disturb his neighbors through the thin walls at this hour. 

 

“It’s okay.” Ken’s smiling, already sliding the duffle bag of his things down his shoulder to set down. 

 

The futons are side by side, blankets of all shapes and sizes piled onto them like the world's worst matched quilt. 

 

Ken puts his bag down near the door of the bedroom, rolling his shoulders out and sighing in relief. 

 

“I’ll let you take the bathroom, I’ll change out here. I think we’re both ready for bed.” Akechi says, motioning to the one bathroom his apartment has. 

 

Ken agrees to that, and unzips his duffle bag and grabs out an old T-shirt that used to be Akihiko’s and soft flannel pyjama pants. Akechi waits till he can hear the bathroom door shut and changes into his own sleep clothes. 

 

Akechi’s wrapped up in his blankets by the time Ken’s out of the bathroom, toothbrush dangling between his fingers as he puts his day clothes and toiletries back in his duffle. 

 

Ken slides under his own mound of blankets, and it's not long until their breathing evens out, and they both slide into an easy sleep. 

 

* * *

 

Ken wakes up first, the light of the early morning breaking through the blinds and making Ken groan. 

 

The sounds of the big city are unfamiliar to Ken, compared to the much sleepier town of Iwatodai. Tokyo’s louder, prouder, and a whole lot more in your face. Ken’s already up though, and he’s not going back to bed anytime soon. 

 

Ken makes a soft warbling sound as he stretches underneath the mound of blankets that are piled on him. His feet tap Akechi’s knees, and Ken realizes that in the middle of the night the two of them had hunted for warmth and somehow had found themselves in the general space of the other. Akechi’s almost awake, his knees jerk away from the touch of Ken’s cold toes. 

 

The two of them grumble through the morning, both not wanting to actually get up through the warm blankets and into the cooler air of the apartment. 

 

Breakfast is a quiet affair, the simple meal was pulled from the fridge and heated up quickly. Ken’s hair stood on end throughout the entire morning, Akechi’s shirt somehow ended up on backwards but neither boy seems to care as they pull themselves together for the day. 

 

Ken’s hair needs taming, his heavy duty hairbrush has light brown hair tangled up in it from eons ago, and even as he brushes the tangles out of it the volume just makes his hair curl up at the ends anyway. Akechi’s own hair lays much flatter, but he’s got to get all the tangles out of the fine strands after every time he sleeps or he’ll have to cut them out later.

 

It takes them a decent amount of time for two teenage boys to get ready, both of the two of them thinking that a shared trait between them is vanity. 

 

Akechi likes his long hair, likes how its a contrast from his father's. Ken’s hair is only long from his own negligence, forgetting to get haircuts as he travels around and does work for both school and for Mitsuru. It’s merely a coincidence that their hair is so similar in length, just barely going past their shoulders, in the fluorescent light of the mirror in the bathroom it’s clearer that Akechi has darker hair, while Ken has the lighter color. Ken’s skin is a little tanner, Akechi’s a little paler, but they both have the sharp shape of their father’s nose, his hard jaw, the sharp cheekbones they both must have gotten from their mothers, their eyes  _ almost _ the same color. 

 

Ken has to meet up with someone this morning, Akechi has to check up with Sae at the police precinct to give her eyewitness testimonies. The two of them have already agreed to meet up for lunch later on in the day, before ‘hanging out’ casually like other regular highschool boys did. 

 

Akechi hopes that Ken has  _ some  _ idea of how regular teenagers acted. 

 

Ken thinks for  _ sure  _ that Akechi’s going to have a baseline idea for how kids their age acted around each other. 

 

They would both be in for a jarring surprise later. 

 

* * *

 

 

Ken sighs as Mitsuru picks up the phone again. 

 

She’s been stuck at the Kirijo Group’s Tokyo Branch lately, with the world of politics breathing down her neck more so than usual. She’s been run ragged lately, but she always makes time to see Ken once every two weeks. Ken’s mostly here to give her the update on the Phantom Thieves case, hand her the folder of compiled evidence that he’s collected from various sources across the board. 

 

She’s sorry that she’s so busy, Ken can see it in the way her shoulders slump everytime the phone ringing cuts off Ken’s sentences. She’s reading the file in front of her and talking to a board executive at the same time, one hand holding the phone to her ear and the other holding a coffee. 

 

Ken’s not bothered though. 

 

Mitsuru’s trying, and that’s all that matters. 

 

\--

 

Akechi winces as Sae nearly rips the files from his hands. 

 

“You can say thank you.” Akechi grumbles, flexing his fingers for a second as Sae’s already turning and opening the witness testimonies. 

 

“Thank you, for doing the bare minimum of your job and handing the prosecutor of this case the eyewitness testimonies.” Sae says back at Akechi, her back already mostly towards Akechi. 

 

Akechi’s used to this kind of behavior from Sae, the dry desert humor that snaps back at Akechi everytime he tries to be witty towards her. She’s usually not in the mood to put up with Akechi most days, her job stressful and her nerves frayed. 

 

Akechi can’t say he’s never seen her softer towards her colleagues before, it's just rare these days. 

 

* * *

 

The lunch place they meet up at takes Ken a moment to find, really only seeing the sign because he notices Akechi by the roadside checking his phone. 

 

“Coffee and … curry?” Ken asks as he walks up reading the red and white sign, thinking it’s an odd combination. 

 

“It’s good, I’ve been here before.” Akechi says. “You’ll like it.” 

 

Ken gives Akechi a  _ look _ . “I’m trusting you, but be aware that I’m holding my opinion to the end.” 

 

Akechi seems smug enough as he pushes the door open, holding it open for Ken to walk through. 

 

The cafe is a cozy small place that can only be classified as a hole in the wall. The max occupancy could only be thrifty people at most, but it smells amazing. The soft lighting makes it seem cozier than it truly was, and the single bartender at the counter was an older gentleman who was reading the newspaper and only glanced up at the sound of the bell on the door. 

 

The booth’s were comfortable, and the signs on the walls showed the menu items with prices. Akechi sits facing the door, so Ken sits facing the stairwell in the back that has a ‘private residence’ sign on the wall next to it. 

 

The barista asks them what they would like from behind the counter, not moving from his spot on a barstool as he continues to read the newspaper in front of him. 

 

Akechi knows what he wants right away, but it takes Ken a second of looking at the menu to decide. 

 

The barista nods, and stands from the barstool to go behind the counter to actually make up the coffee’s and the small lunch items. 

 

Ken relaxes into his seat, allowing his shoulders to fall for the first time since breakfast. Akechi also relaxes back in his own seat, resting his elbows on the table for support. The two of them had a busy morning, so it’s natural that their mornings are what they begin to talk about. 

 

Ken asks about how Akechi’s morning went, and the two of them started at that. 

 

The police station had been as it always was, busy, and Akechi had been stuck with in the prosecutor's office the whole time he was there. Sae had been overworked the night before, so wasn’t in the mood to actually put effort into the interaction between her and ‘the intern’ of the police department. 

 

“God I hate being classified as an intern.” Ken laughs, “If I have to get one more cup of coffee for someone I’m going to scream.” 

 

“You’ve been an intern at the Kirijo Group for a while now haven't you?” Akechi says, “Like, for a really long time right?” 

 

Ken nods, “Yeah, officially since my first year of highschool.” 

 

Akechi thinks back to the photo on Ken’s desk, how damn  _ young _ Ken had looked. Akechi has to fight through the technical truth to get to the real answer underneath it all. Both of them were good at telling the truth on technicality, while also getting away with a whole lot of shit underneath. “ _ Officially _ ?” 

 

Ken shrugs. “I’ve been friends with Mitsuru for a long time, so I’ve been around the Kirijo Group for a while. Mitsuru found things for me to do when everyone was working.” 

 

“Are all your friends several years older then?” Akechi asks. 

 

The barista finishes the coffee they ordered, and places the two cups on the table in front of them. Akechi and Ken thank him, and he goes back behind the counter to focus on the two other people who have walked in. 

 

“Am I being interrogated?” Ken asks as he takes up the coffee, sipping it carefully. “Oh this coffee  _ is _ good.” 

 

“A little bit, yes.” Akechi knows that the coffee here is always made to perfection, but he tastes it anyway. Akechi’s not disappointed. “I don’t know as much about you as I would like.” 

 

“You’re trying to figure out a specific piece of information, aren't you?” Ken’s eyes narrow, hands curling tighter on his cup, “Why are you trying to figure out how long I’ve worked for the Kirijo Group?”

 

“I’m figuring out a timeline of sorts.” Akechi says, “I’m figuring something out, call it a hunch if you will.” 

 

“A timeline, involving how early on I was involved in the Kirijo Group?” 

 

“Humor me.” Akechi asks. “Because at first I thought you had been sent by our  _ shared associate _ , and if you’ve been working for a company that’s adamantly opposed to him for as long as I think you have then I would be wrong in my original theory wouldn’t I?”

 

Ken just blinked up at Akechi for a second, before Ken actually had the audacity to  _ laugh _ . 

 

Ken’s trying to keep his laugher to himself, but it’s just making the sound worse. It’s almost a snort, and Ken’s shoulders shake with the effort to keep quiet. Akechi knew at this point that Ken wasn’t working for Shido, he just wanted to have more of a base to know Ken on. It was a real idea and threat that Ken was just a plant put in place by Shido to report back Akechi’s actions to the man. Akechi had just wanted more information on the Kirijo Group and he felt like that was the quickest way to get it, he didn’t expect that Ken would  _ laugh _ at him. 

 

Akechi feels the flush of embarrassment burn his ears. 

 

“I’m  _ definitely _ not working for that man.”  Ken says, “What would ever give you that impression?” 

 

Years of abuse would give that impression, friends that have sold him out before for much less. 

 

“I like to keep all my bases  _ covered _ thank you very much.” Akechi says, tone hard. 

 

Ken’s still laughing, a little softer now, “I started interacting and getting to know the Kirijo Group when I was ten years old.” 

 

“So the picture of you with the red armband, on your desk with all those older students, was that when you started working with them?” 

 

Ken stops laughing. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

Akechi feels his chest  _ burn _ with some kind of blistering emotion. What the Kirijo Group want with children that  _ young?  _ Ken was ten, ten years old and involved in something much bigger than any one child should have to deal with. All the students in that picture were young, the oldest being around Akechi’s age now. Did the Kirijo Group make those students the same as him? Did those students get an app with a red eye and asked to investigate the people that oppose them? 

 

Ken had been  _ ten years old _ . 

 

“Why?” Akechi asks, honestly lost, “What did they  _ want  _ with you?” 

 

Ken looks over the rim of his coffee cup, eyes blank. 

 

Akechi  _ knows _ that face. He sees that face in the mirror every time he comes back from a request of his father. That’s the face of someone who’s gone over an edge that they can never come back from and has long since accepted the fact. 

 

Ken must see something in Akechi’s face, because he places the cup down on the saucer. “I gave them my time willingly Goro.” 

 

“I didn’t ask if you did.” 

 

“I knew what I was getting into when I asked to join S.E.E.S. I knew what I wanted to accomplish-” 

 

“You were ten years old there was no reasonable way that those adults should have let you-” 

 

“I was asked if I wanted a place to stay at first. Only a housing assignment. That was  _ it. _ ” Ken’s knuckles are white. He’s not looking at Akechi anymore. “They only asked me to live with the others, and I did.  _ I  _ was the one who asked to join them. It was  _ me _ who made that decision. Don’t think that I was some helpless  _ child  _ who got roped into something without my acknowledgement.” 

 

“They took advantage of you.” Akechi says, jabbing wildly in the dark to keep Ken talking. “You were given housing and board-” 

 

“I  _ asked _ to join S.E.E.S, I took advantage of  _ them _ . I was the one who had to badger their way onto the team because everyone saw me as a weak child who couldn’t do anything for himself. I was a valuable fucking asset and I demanded to have a place amongst them.” 

 

Ken’s rage is palpable in the air, and Akechi feels like he’s playing a dangerous game with something he only really half understands. 

 

Ken’s rage is not to be mistaken for carelessness, because he’s immediately jumping up at Akechi’s  _ throat _ . 

 

“The only reason that you would be so invested in this,  _ dearest brother _ , is if you’ve been in a similar situation.” Ken’s eyes are sharp, dangerous, and Akechi’s fought enough battles to know when something is going to hurt him. “So tell me, who was the one who took advantage of  _ you _ ?” 

 

“No one.” Akechi says, too quickly. 

 

Ken’s too well trained to not take advantage of a weakness like this. 

 

“Is that why you brought up our shared associate earlier? Was he the one who  _ used  _ you when you were too young to understand?” 

 

Akechi feels the anger rear its ugly head in his chest. Feels Robin Hood in his chest demand a battle, feels Loki demand blood.  “What makes you think that, pray tell?” 

 

They should deescalate, should calm down and smooth over their heated words and take things slower, but both of them are ready and willing to die on the hill that they have made. Both of them are throwing hurt around, tearing open wounds that should have stayed covered and closed. 

 

So Ken just  _ smiles _ and says, “What in the world has our father made you  _ do _ ?” 

 

* * *

 

Makoto sits at home, her feet tucked under her hips and relaxing on the couch. She’s just got done with her homework, and is going over the complaints she has gotten today about someone extorting the students for money. 

 

Sae get home, opening the door and sighing as the cool air of the apartment hits her. Sae toes off her work shoes and slips on the much more comfortable home slippers. She walks into the living room and places her bag onto the floor and flops down into the cushions. 

 

“Hello Sae.” Makoto says, looking up for a moment before continuing on with her work. “How was the office today?”

 

Sae just groans, tired. “Someone below me tried to hit on me again, and I had to deal with Akechi today, why he’s got his hands all over the mental shutdown cases I don't know.” 

 

Makoto looks up from her work, catching on Akechi’s name. 

 

“I saw him the other day, Akechi.” 

 

“Oh? Really?” Sae leans forward to undo her jacket and place it on the back of the couch. 

 

“Yeah, his brother and I ran into him at the train station.” 

 

Sae raises an eyebrow at that, she didn’t know Akechi had a brother. 


	8. Chapter 8

> **Justice cannot be attained by violence. Violence kills what it intends to create.**
> 
>  

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a brother?” Sae questions when Akechi rolls into her office that Wednesday afternoon. 

 

Akechi looks like he’s seen better days, so many better days, in fact, this might be the worst that Sae’s seen him in a while. The makeup under his eyes is smudged  _ just _ enough for Sae to notice the dark circles, Akechi’s learned a lot from the makeup artists at the television studios, but he’s still a teenage boy who’s learned everything incredibly shakily second-hand from people who were more focused on doing than teaching. 

 

He might even be limping, but Sae stopped being able to fully discern how injured Akechi was a week after meeting him, he kept everything so incredibly close to his chest. 

 

“I didn’t think you needed to know that.” Akechi says, putting his school bag down by the door with the carefully controlled grace that he always used with every movement. 

 

“We both could have talked about being siblings, a friendly chat between co-workers.” Sae moves papers so that Akechi can find a spot to set his things down. “I talk about my sister all the time, it’s only fair play that I let you talk about your own sibling.” 

 

Akechi sets himself down in the chair gingerly, he pulls his briefcase up on the table and snaps the clasps. 

 

Sae raises her eyebrow higher and higher as Akechi silently pulls out his work and begins to arrange it. 

 

He gets to the second page of a character witness before Sae finally says, “Akechi.” 

 

Akechi looks up, not seemingly bothered by the expectation to talk about his family.  

 

“Akechi I would like to know about your brother.” 

 

“There’s not much to tell, we have only a passing knowledge of one another.  _ Half _ -brothers.” Akechi’s already on the third page now, eyes skimming over the testimony. “We don’t like talking to one another.” 

 

“You don’t seem like you don’t like talking to him.” Sae says, her eyes sharp. She’s a prosecutor for a living, so lies are something she can more easily than physical injuries. “In fact, I would say you’ve been happier around here lately.” 

 

Akechi glances up, his eyes hard, and Sae doesnt press him anymore. She knows when someone doesn't want to talk about something. 

 

If family is something he doesn't want to talk about, then Sae won’t make him talk about it. 

 

They work in less than comfortable silence. Sae goes over the witness statements that Akechi provides, Akechi takes notes upon notes, pouring himself over each word and line trying to find something he can use to find the guy that’s been causing all the mental shutdowns. 

 

They work together for about two hours, it’s getting late in the day. Sae’s used to the longer nights though, and Akechi has to work around his school days. They both normally work until seven or eight and it’s not nearly that time yet. 

 

“What does this mean?” Akechi asks, the first thing that’s been spoken in a while. Sae pushes his hair behind her ear as she looks up and over to the paper. Akechi has turned the paper towards her, and was tapping a statement he’s underlined. 

 

“Oh, they’re referencing the old case of mass lethargy syndrome, apathy illness?, it happened a while back.” Sae knows that case, she had been in a law school during that case and it had come up in discussion more than once. It was a string of cases near Iwatodai and the surrounding areas. People would go into a coma-like state, unable to feed themselves, unable to care for themselves, it was fluctuating disease for about a year, with cases rapidly spreading then slowly affecting the population about once a month. 

 

Wait a second. 

 

Sae reaches over the papers piled onto her desk, clicking the computer out of sleep mode by slamming the space bar over and over. She quickly goes into Google, searching out ‘Apathy Syndrome’. 

 

She gets old news articles, about the apparent ‘cure’ of the cases by the Kirijo Group. She scans an article quickly, and goes back to the search and adds, ‘2009’ into the search bar. 

 

Sae reads aloud, “ _ Those suffering from the syndrome suffer from debilitating levels of apathy. When it strikes the inflicted will collapse in a heap wherever they happen to be and become unable to move, feed, or care for themselves.”   _

 

Akechi’s already reaching for his own beat up laptop, typing quickly across his keyboard. 

 

“We need to contact the Kirijo Group, we need to ask if they’ve applied the cure for Apathy Syndrome to the mental shutdown cases. If these two cases are in any way related we could have a chance of waking up all the shutdown cases who haven’t yet.” Sae’s already emailing people, asking if there’s any way they could get to the case files from all those years ago. 

 

“The Kirijo Group was the one to cure Apathy Syndrome? The Kirijo Group in Iwatodai?” Akechi’s asking, already reading over article after article. 

 

“Yes. Iwatodai was the centralized area of the outbreak, they set up huge funds for the people affected and they helped with the hospital visits. They do deal with medical equipment after all, they helped the community down there a lot.” Sae recalls having people in her own class use the community service hours on their resumes. “I remember how many people in my class were asked to work as paralegals, we helped families settle things while their loved ones were sick.” 

 

Akechi was already neck deep in the web, looking at article after article. 

 

“You should have been elementary school at the time.” Sae says, “Around ten?” 

 

Akechi’s not listening anymore, he’s too busy reading news sites, journals,  _ everything _ . 

 

Article after article of cases of mental shutdowns, or something equivalent to. Each new article brought more and more information to light. 

 

The cases where centered in Iwatodai, mostly students who went to Gekkoukan High. There were reports of the illnesses being a strong flu, a new bout of drug users, stress from overworking, everything and anything. The ‘cure’ was never described, only that it worked after being administered enmass to the patients who were suffering. Families had been elated to get their loved ones back, thanking the Kirijo Group, sending praise after thanks after praise. 

 

On the whole, it looked incredibly similar to what was occurring now. 

 

Akechi caused mental shutdowns, he went into the world accessible through the app and he killed the doubles with the yellow eyes. He came back to the police building, walked right inside the front door and proceeded to boost his own reputation by ‘solving’ puzzles about the various victims. Secrets that the doubles with the yellow eyes had all but screamed at him. 

 

This was the exact same thing. A ploy for popularity, to be seen in the good graces of the people. 

 

The working theory is that the Kirijo Group used people, people like Ken, and caused a ruckus that only they could solve. 

 

All Akechi had to do was  _ prove _ it. 

 

Which, admittedly, is going to be difficult. 

 

There had to be something here though, something buried in piles after piles of paparazzi drivel. A word, a phrase. 

 

Or maybe a picture. 

 

An article about the efforts of the community to helping the victims of this terrible sudden onset illness. There’s a few pictures, clearly taken by an older camera. The quality’s okay at best, capturing the sterile white of the hospital and the various volunteers helping out the staff. There’s a few of people in ‘volunteer’ t-shirts, some of the victims themselves, one or two of a doctor or nurse working tirelessly to help the people in their care. 

 

One of a teenager about Akechi’s age, smiling sadly, softly, at the camera as she stands beside the bed of a victim with dyed red hair. 

 

The image is  _ beautiful _ , with the volunteer just on the edge of being aware of the camera, turned just so that her hair falls perfectly across her shoulders. She’s reaching out, tucking bed corners back into their perfect place, gracefully performing the perfect task for such a young lady. 

 

She’s the perfect model, her face framed in the low light of day, her expression not the pity one would suspect from a caretaker of the sick, but a one of determination, an expression that said that we would do something about the situation, a woman who hasn't given up with all the odds stacked against her. 

 

She’s posed just so, Akechi can see the huge glaring red armband that’s pinned into place on her left upper arm. 

 

The letters clear as day spelling out, S.E.E.S. 

 

The caption helpfully says, ‘ _ Even Mitsuru Kirijo herself is helping out the hospital staff in these trying times.’   _

 

That’s the same armband. The same armband that had been wrapped around Ken’s arm in that old photograph. 

 

Akechi goes deeper, gets more into it. His mind’s working a mile a minute, thinking  _ how _ the Kirijo Group figured out how to help the victims of a mental shutdown, how they chose who got killed in the other world, who made the decision on who lived and who died. How the team, this S.E.E.S, was formed, how the people in the team got chosen. 

 

Akechi needs to find out  _ why _ children like Ken got chosen to be the harbingers of this kind of decay on people. Why specifically a school club? Was it for money? Was it a test? Ken did mention that he was housed officially before he was a member, was it dorm specific? 

 

Akechi opens another tab, another link further down the rabbit hole, and he wonders. 

 

* * *

 

Ken’s not mad, not really. 

 

He’s  _ upset _ . That’s worse. 

 

He and his brothe-  _ half _ , half brother, had gotten into a fight the other day. 

 

They both had drug up some shit that they  shouldn’t have. Akechi made digs at things Ken wanted to have kept buried. The two of them riled the other up to the point that after Ken accused their father of doing  _ something _ to Akechi he had shit down and flat out refused to answer anymore questions. 

 

They had eaten frankly amazing curry and they had walked out of that diner with a boiling fury between them. 

 

They parted at the station, Akechi had coldly said a goodbye, and Ken didn’t look back as the train’s doors closed. 

 

Ken stabs the dummy a little harder, the sharp blade of his spear sinking deep into the neck of the mannequin. The only thing that keeps the spear from going right through the whole thing is the hilt of the trident, stopping Ken’s forward momentum. 

 

Ken yanks the spear out, using the butt of his weapon to slam Mitsuru’s rapier out from her hands as she lines up a stab at the back of his head. 

 

Mitsuru’s soft curse makes Ken smile, she’s never been terribly sneaky in those heels of hers, but she pays for it now in their training sessions. 

 

The game had been a simple game of ‘kill as many dummies as possible but if you take out a teammate you get their points added to yours’. 

 

Ken’s weapon was made to keep people at a distance, so he had an advantage. 

 

Yukari was doing second best, her sneaky arrows making sure the people who weren’t paying attention got punished. Aigis’s airsoft bullets raced across everyone now and again, but she was more focused on gaining her own self points. Closer ranged fighters like Mitsuru and Junpei were doing poorly. 

 

Fuuka was gamely keeping track of the points as she was being flown away by Akihiko, testing her abilities to effect the group at a distance. 

 

Ken ducks another arrow, the rubber tip of it only barely scraping the wall. 

 

Yukari was only using ‘safe’ arrowheads because of last week’s injuries. She was a fan of the traditional metal tipped ones, initially laughing when Junpei got shot in the gut last week before realizing that Fuuka was truly out of persona range and nobody had evoker on them. 

 

They all had the safe weight of the evoker on their hip for  _ this _ training session. 

 

Ken feels the way the cold metal brushes against his hip when his shirt rises up, he sees Mitsuru’s on her thigh holster as she crouches low to jab Aigis with her rapier. Junpei has his on a shoulder holster, showing for a second when his arms raise to swing at Yukari. 

 

Ken doges a rain of bullet hell from Aigis, sliding under the fire to slice at the dummies knees. 

 

Junpei cries a victory holler and Yukari curses, loudly. 

 

Ken jams the butt of his spear to trip up Aigis, and the heavy thud signals her fall. 

 

Mitsuru’s back again, rounding on Ken after Aigis goes down and Fuuka tells them most of Aigis’s points have been taken by Ken. 

 

Ken curses, loudly, and ignores the soft voice of Fuuka in his head chastising him for his language. Mitsuru’s too  _ close _ now, and her rapier stabs him hard in the shoulder, the sharp pressure gives way to a dull pain as the rapier sinks into Ken’s shoulder. 

 

_ Fuck _ . 

 

The rapier gets ripped out of his shoulder, Mitsuru’s already on her next target, laser focused on Yukari. 

 

Fuuka’s voice is worried and soft, but she’s still able to heal him from the distance she’s at. The hurt is soothed by the cool wash of a dia, the torn muscles and ligaments knit back together, the scrape of the bone fills in. 

 

Ken grits his teeth, and gets his head back into the game. 

 

He can’t be thinking about what went wrong in his personal life as a sword gets aimed at his kneecaps. 

 

Later, when this was over, Ken is going to text Akechi and try to make amends. 

 

* * *

 

Akechi’s sitting on his bed, eating a microwave meal and reading through an article about how the Apathy Syndrome affected a disproportionate homeless people and youths on the street when his phone  _ pings! _

 

He lets it buzz twice before picking it up. 

 

It’s Ken. 

 

Of  _ course  _ it’s Ken. Who else would it be? Akechi doesn't have friends that just text him, the public relations officer at the police station would call him, Sae would email him, his father would call. 

 

Ken’s first text simply says: 

 

> “ **_Sorry”_ **

 

That makes Akechi actually unlock his phone, checking his messenger app. 

 

> “ **_I didn’t mean to say what I did._ **
> 
>  
> 
> **_Well, okay I did but it was only because I got mad at what you were saying to me and reacted like a child.”_ **

 

Akechi knows Ken’s being the bigger person here, but Akechi can realize that some of the blame was on himself for pushing the conversation as hard as he did. 

 

Ken was clearly not comfortable with talking, but Akechi needed to  _ know _ . 

 

So Akechi has enough maturity to respond back: 

 

> “ **_I’m sorry I asked questions that made you angry.”_ **

 

The conversations easier from then on out, like a knots been unraveled between them. The conversation doesn't flow amazingly smoothly, it still has its halts and jarring topic jumps, but it’s conversation at least. It’s been radio silence between them both for three days now. 

 

Ken had been getting antsy, reaching for his phone and opening up the messaging app that taunted him with date of the last message. Akechi had felt the loneliness begin to creep back into his life, but didn’t know what to say to try and pull Ken back without making everyone involved  _ more _ mad at what was happening. They both felt the absence of the other, sitting in the back of their minds like a loose string on a cloth. 

 

Akechi asks to meet up, over the weekend, after the both of them had time to cool down. Ken agrees to that, asking if Akechi can meet up nearer to Iwatodai. 

 

The two of them make plans for Saturday, Akechi agreeing to go to Ken instead of making Ken come to Tokyo again. 

 

Ken offers to let Akechi spend the night in the dorms. 

 

Akechi lets his fingers hover over the dim light of his phones keyboard, the light from the phone’s screen is one of the only light sources in the room. It’s late at night, the city outside shines down neon onto Akechi’s one room apartment, the lights are off and the computer shines a blue light on the walls. 

 

Its silent, dark, and Akechi almost feels like a normal teenager. 

 

He could see himself, in another time maybe, sitting in a bed that’s softer than his cardboard one and texting friends that he doesn't have now. Akechi has a sudden  _ longing _ in his chest, Robin Hood runs it’s hands up and down Akechi’s heart, trying to soothe a hurt that it can’t really reach at. Loki’s not as tame, it faces uncertainty and pain with the same screaming rage that it always faces the world with, but Loki’s exhausting, wearing itself out by throwing its head back, scraping his horns against Akechi’s spine, and  _ shrieking _ . 

 

Akechi knows he’s overthinking, knows that this is a question that doesn't have a right or wrong answer, but he’s grown up with a household that didn’t have questions that didn't have an answer. Akechi knows that he could say no, he could say yes, and Ken would still feel the same at the end of the day.

 

But Akechi still feels like he can fuck up. 

 

Akechi says that he’ll spend the night, thank you for the offer. 

 

Ken simply sends back a smiling face. 

 

> **_(•‿•)_ **

 

* * *

 

Akechi shows up at the station about an hour before dinner time. 

 

He’s been busy this week, and has many a black and blue mark across his legs. The bank in the other world is being a pain in his ass, he’s trying to threaten to keep Kaneshiro’s mouth shut but those guards keep popping out of the darkness and thrashing Akechi when he’s caught off guard.

 

His knee had been smashed underneath a security officer's foot, Akechi only wiggling out of that fight by the grace of god alone. The bruise is a dark red, almost black, but it has a matching mark on the opposite thigh when a blunt baton slammed down hard enough to rattle Akechi’s  _ teeth _ . 

 

Akechi holds himself in perfect posture as he walks off the train, keeps his pain under wraps as he spots Ken in the crowd waiting for him. 

 

Ken’s distracted by his phone, which probably is the only reason that Akechi gets away with the walk from the station to the dorms. Ken apologizes, saying that some of his friends are in town that aren’t usually around and they’ve been blowing up his phone all evening. Akechi lets Ken work on his social network in peace. 

 

They just stop by the lobby of the dorm, Akechi dropping his overnight bag down on the couch and following Ken to get the dinner they’ve agreed on beforehand. 

 

Dinner is just a pickup from a local restaurant, grabbing a large takeout bag and paying the nice workers and walking the three blocks back to the lobby of the dorm. Akechi can smell the food, and his stomach lets out a low grumble, wanting to eat already. He hadn’t eaten lunch because trainfood was expensive and Akechi knew he was getting food later on. 

 

The lobby’s just as quiet as it was before, just Akechi and Ken sitting together on the couch, putting the to-go boxes on the coffee table and fishing pieces of food from the boxes at random whim. 

 

They talk about their day, Ken finally putting his phone in his back pocket, and Akechi admits he’s had a boring one from the train ride. 

 

Ken had a meeting with the self proclaimed ‘leader of the interns’ at work today, and he talks in length about how his boss has no respect for the people under him and doesn't understand what interns actually  _ do _ in the company. 

 

“I even technically outrank him!” Ken complains, shoulders sagging as he uses his chopsticks to gesticulate his exasperation. “He just goes on and on about how he knows some big wigs, and asks me to get him some coffee for them when I’m  _ actually  _ doing testing with the accuracy of hospital equipment. Everyone  _ knows _ I’m friends with Mitsuru  _ except this idiot-”  _

 

“You outrank him and he’s your boss?” Akechi remarks, reaching over and snagging some chicken from the box in front of Ken. 

 

Ken groans. “It’s complicated, nobody under the age of eighteen can work legally full-time for the company, I’m classified as an  _ intern  _ but when I graduate high school I’m going right into R&D as I work on a degree in biochemistry.” 

 

Ken switches topics, and continues to rambles on about the shitty boss, and Akechi snags another piece of chicken.

 

The dinner is uneventful, mostly. 

 

Akechi accidentally drops a noodle onto his nice khaki pants, Ken uses his leg to keep Koromaru away as the dog begs for table scraps. 

 

(Akechi will swear up and down that he doesn't give Koromaru any food, that Akechi knows what that dogs shouldn’t be given extra food at the table. Koromaru will remember to sit down next to his master’s lookalike from then on because he’ll give up anything on his plate for a good set of puppy-dog eyes.)

 

“You know-” Akechi sets down his plate when there seems to be an appropriate pause in conversation, “You’re whole deal with the Kirijo group still seems sketchy to me.” 

 

“Oh does it? And your whole deal with the Phantom Thieves seems all hunky-dory?” Ken shoots back without missing a beat, reaching over and snagging a large piece of broccoli from Akechi’s plate. 

 

“Hey!” Akechi tries to steal his food back, but Ken’s already half eaten it, shoving the rest of the large piece of food in his mouth. Akechi grumbles, but picks up another piece of broccoli, replacing the one he lost. “Don’t try to distract me with that nonsense,” Akechi fends off Ken’s chopsticks one more time, before continuing the conversation with a “What do you mean, my deal with the Phantom Thieves?” 

 

Ken shrugs, “I think that you know who the real cause of the mental shutdowns are, I think you know the real identities of the Phantom Thieves.” 

 

Akechi gets startled so badly that Ken is able to steal another piece of food, grabbing a carrot this time. 

 

“Why would you think I know the identities of the Phantom Thieves?” Akechi says, trying to hide the shaking in his hands, smooth the panic in his voice. 

 

“Because you’re in the perfect spot to know who’s the mastermind behind all the mental shutdowns. This case skyrocketed you to fame after all, and it’s not hard to tell that these cases have been wonderfully kind to a certain person who we both have a vendetta against.” 

 

Akechi’s shoulders tense, his breathing picks up the pace. 

 

“Our shared father has simply been reaping the benefits, guest appearances at the hospital for publicity, standing tall to help support the people who have been affected, oh yeah, and anyone who’s in political disagreements with him usually ends up a victim of these wildly random attacks.” Ken reaches for his drink, finally meeting Akechi’s eyes. “It’s a bit convenient, don’t you think?” 

 

Akechi’s knuckles go white with how hard he grips his chopsticks. 

 

“So I’m looking around, doing some investigation work of my own, and I find that you’ve been pretty confident in your cases about the mental shutdowns. The police force has said nothing but good things about you and your work, but when the Phantom Thieves came into play that must have thrown you off balance, a wildcard in your case. According to some inside sources-”    
  
Akechi’s going to  _ kill  _ Hamamura and Shirogane. 

 

“-the Phantom Thieves case was the one that you actually had to sit down and go at from multiple angles. You, by all accounts, were obsessed with the case until about a month ago, when you did that live appearance on that talkshow. Now they don’t see you caring as much anymore, almost like you already have figured it all out, and are waiting for the opportune moment to reveal it.” 

 

“That’s certainly a tale you’ve spun for yourself.” Akechi says, placing his utensils down.

 

“I’m  _ right _ , aren’t I?” Ken smiles, like a cat that's caught the canary. 

 

“Why would I be withholding evidence in my own investigation?” Akechi argues. 

 

“Because you’re a sneaky bastard who knows when it's a good time to play his hand.” 

 

Shit. 

 

Akechi laughs, a laugh perfected in the flashing lights of the press conferences, a laugh meant to discredit the accusations and give him time to respond. “Oh? You give me too much credit there,  _ Amada _ .” 

 

Ken’s eyes narrow, gaze suddenly sharp and piercing. “We’re back to last names now,  _ Goro-nii _ ?” 

 

“Why don’t we go back to talking about the business practices of your company, dearest brother of mine?” Akechi says, tone not terribly brother-like at all. . 

 

“Why would we talk about things that might violate NDA laws when we can talk about you obstructing justice to get  _ revenge  _ on a man you hate!” Ken’s smiling now, but Akechi knows that smile from his own face, it’s a fake smile, one that means a fight’s about to happen. 

 

A fight that Akechi can’t afford to lose. 

 

“Oh, I don’t think my obstruction of justice is as bad as the fun little experiments that the Kirijo Group likes to implement on ten year olds.”    
  


Ken’s smile goes cold, his body tensing. 

 

“Yes, let's talk about how a business was using children to play games with the psyche of a person, to mentally  _ break  _ them into nothingness, oh what was that disease called again, Apathy Syndrome-” 

 

“Stop.” Ken’s voice is  _ cold _ . “You don’t know  _ anything  _ about Apathy Syndrome.” 

 

“I think I can find some interesting correlations between what the Kirijo Group was doing then and what our shared  _ acquaintance  _ is doing now, actually.” 

 

“Shut your fucking mouth,  _ Goro-nii _ .” 

 

Akechi’s blood  _ sings _ with the tension in the air, with the fight that’s about to break out and destroy them both. His persona’s  _ beg _ him to let them free, let them fight for him. To break the boy in front of them so badly that nobody would ever see the resemblance between them again. Robin hood wants to bathe the opponent in light so blistering hot that skin would  _ boil _ and bones would melt. Loki wants to tear, to  _ rip  _ open, to fillet the ribcage open and pin Ken back against a white wall like a macabre butterfly. 

 

“You have no proof that Mitsuru did anything, it was years and years ago that any of us wore the red band, we’re not in S.E.E.S anymore, the clubs long since been disbanded, the original members are too far apart for testimony.” 

 

Ken’s sneer is a mirror of Akechi’s own. 

 

“Talk big all you want, Goro-nii, but everything you’ve presented so far is eight years gone already, nobody’s going to remember that far back, you can easily disprove and discredit a faulty memory in court and you  _ know  _ this.” 

 

“There’s evidence that what you did all those years ago is effecting today, you know. I don’t dig up old dirt for no reason, dearest brother.” Akechi’s smile is  _ wicked _ , full of teeth. 

 

“You don’t?” Ken’s sneer is wicked. “Well color me surprised then, because it seems to me that digging up dirt that’s meant to be dead is a side hobby of yours.” 

 

“Oh, I thought this incredibly vital to look into! Considering that the Kirijo Group was the one responsible for giving the Phantom Thieves their method of attack.” 

 

Hook line and sinker. Akechi’s smile grows wider as Ken’s face drained of blood. Akechi watches all the emotions fly across his half-brothers face. 

 

“You’re  _ lying _ to me.” Ken whispers, fierce and whippet quick. “There’s no way. The Dark Hour is  _ gone _ . We made sure of it.” 

 

“Oh? Really? How sure of that are you?” Akechi has no idea what the hell the ‘Dark Hour’ is, but he’s pretty sure that’s what Ken must call the app. 

 

“ _ Damned _ sure. We made sure that everything was fine. We fought through it  _ twice _ . I’m  _ positive _ that it’s gone. We’re all fine now. Nobody’s ever going to  _ suffer  _ like that again.” 

 

Akechi almost feels bad for him, almost. 

 

Akechi pulls out his phone, opening it with a quick swipe of his thumb. The app sits proudly in the second page, the app loads right up when Akechi presses it. 

 

Akechi shows the loading application to Ken.

 

A slight knot of tension eases as Ken’s face flashes genuine surprise. Ken looks like he’s never seen this logo, this app, before in his life. Maybe Ken’s method of getting to this cognitive world was different? He did go a long time ago, so maybe it wasn’t as refined? 

 

The app loads perfectly well into a navigation screen. 

 

“What the hell is this? A fucking joke?” Ken’s surprise, his hurt, has turned into a furious anger. “If you think that this shit is funny I’m going to kill you.” 

 

Akechi looks up, his finger hovering above the ‘MEMENTOS’ search in his history. “What makes you think this is a joke?”

 

Ken’s silent, eyes wide, his whole body tensed. 

 

“This definitely isn't a joke. I’m not cruel.” 

 

Akechi presses the button, and the world around them starts to flicker. 

 

Akechi’s going to show his half brother his ultimate trump card. 

 

It’s a shame that after this, he’s going to have to kill his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when this was a happy lmao series about memes? 
> 
> neither do i


	9. Chapter 9

> _ **Men often mistake killing and revenge for justice. They seldom have the stomach for justice.** _

 

The world’s twisted here in a way that Akechi’s never seen before. 

 

Usually, without a palace to go to, the only places twisted with distortion in this application are places that something has  _ happened _ in, someplace that has something tied to it that many a person has thoughts and connections too. The subway’s a dark place, the kind of place that Akechi’s not in the mood to explore, ever. Places of high traffic sometimes have a stray shadow or two running around, but Akechi’s never seen a place like  _ this _ before. 

 

The sky’s  _ green _ , sickly and poisoned.

 

Things scream here, echoey and hollow in the ways that make Akechi’s skin crawl. 

 

The dorm is the same, mostly. The shadows are dark, heavy, thick in ways that make the eye imagine _things_ inside of them. The green light of the sky, the moon, makes the formerly soft, warm living room a scene from a horror movie. Akechi’s instantly on edge because something was wrong, horribly wrong. His phone, the _only_ bright backlit light in the entire room blinks out, the red of the app dying to a black screen. 

 

His phone has  _ never _ died before. The metaverse keeps his phone alive, no matter what the percentage. 

 

In the darkness Ken sits perfectly still. His shoulders tense, eyes wide and focused on the windows. Akechi can’t see the details of his half brother, can’t see anything but the broad details of his body, but he can see how wide Ken’s eyes are, the quickness of his breath. 

 

Ken’s panicking, hands gripping the edge of the worn couch. 

 

“This can’t be real.” Ken whispers, low, to himself. 

 

He’s shaking. 

 

Akechi hides the shake of his own hands, trying not to panic at the fact that his phone, the lifeline out of this fucking place, has just died on him. 

 

“Believe me now?” Akechi’s not letting any of his fear through in his voice. 

 

Ken’s up, he’s moving, ignoring Akechi entirely. 

 

“Koromaru, get your collar.” Ken’s voice is low, tight, and in a tone that Akechi’s never heard before. “Get your collar and get out, run, find others if you can.” 

 

The dog’s already up, darting to the stairs and running faster than Akechi thought possible from the old boy. Koromaru’s little paws can be heard tearing through the otherwise deadly silent dorm. Ken’s also headed upstairs, he’s running. 

 

Akechi is not going to be ignored. 

 

“Ken!” Akechi’s following his brother, tearing after him upstairs. 

 

The whole dorm is covered in that sickly green light, the old wood of the furniture almost black in the awful lighting. The shadows have  _ things _ in them, Akechi  _ knows _ , he can see the small movements of creatures in the darkness of the dorm. The things in the shadows make no noise, they just watch, move, observe. 

 

The hallway of Ken’s dorm the normally empty dorms have their doors wide open, and the inside of them have the impression of the people who used to live there. They  _ almost _ look normal, almost. The rooms have something subtly wrong with them, there’s one full of an amassment of things that seem to be shivering in their places, moving across the floor and morphing together into horrors. There’s a room full of exercise equipment, the punching bag was moving as if it were being hit, but there was nobody  _ in _ the room to hit it, there was no noise either. 

 

There’s a room that’s almost bare, the only thing odd was the beanie and jacket draped on the bed, the bloodstain slowly spreading across the breast of the jacket dripping silently onto the floor. 

 

There’s also a room at the end of the hall that’s just completely locked, the door closed and the shadows holding it closed in a vice grip.

 

Ken’s room is also off, the books seem to shiver on the shelf, the single window has a spectacular view of the green tinted moon.

 

Ken’s yanked out the spears from underneath his bed, he’s grabbing at them, trying to find the one he wants. Koromaru already has run through Akechi’s legs, a strange collar around his neck as he shoots forward into the green night. 

 

“Do you believe me  _ now _ ?” Akechi asks Ken, hands gripping the doorframe. 

 

“ _ Get out of my way _ .” Ken growls, a spear in his hand to help him stand tall. “I need to get to Mitsuru.” 

 

“You’re going to tell me what the hell this place has to do with the Kirijo Group, aren’t you?” Akechi shoots back, still standing in the door. 

 

Ken  _ moves _ .

 

The spear is more of a trident, with its three prongs that shine with a deadly sharp edge. Ken takes one step forward, planting his foot whipping the end of his spear up so hard that Akechi can’t even let loose a curse before the metal stopper on the bottom  _ slams _ into Akechi’s elbow. 

 

Akechi’s arm crumples and Ken slips past him into the hallways after Koromaru. 

 

“Damn it!” Akechi spits out, furious. “Ken!  _ Ken! _ ” 

 

“I don’t have  _ time _ for this right now! I need to get my team! I need to-” 

 

“ _ They’re not here _ !” Akechi calls out, frustrated that Ken’s mind has completely jumped from the conversation they had been having to this new devotion to finding the leader of the Kirijo Group. 

 

Ken rips Akechi’s hand from the back of his neck, eyes wild and stance defensive. “What the hell do you  _ fucking mean _ .” 

 

Akechi’s not going to explain anything, not that he can explain much. This is wildly different than Tokyo, there’s a feeling in the air that is darker, more dangerous that the empty streets of Mementos in the city. This feels like the one time Akechi had gone down to the subway when he was exploring Mementos, the nearly oppressive darkness and the way it's hard to breathe. 

 

But Akechi needs to give answers to get them in this situation. 

 

“It only pulls in the people near the phone, the app.The only people in this place are me and you.” 

 

Akechi and Ken stare at each other, eyes wild with the anderline that’s swirling in their veins from the body’s natural reaction to being in a place like this. 

 

“Why did you bring me to the Dark Hour.” Ken’s voice is dangerous, sharp as the blades at the end of his spear. “ _ Why _ do you have access to this place.” 

 

A shadow outside screams, high pitched and with something that’s catching deep in the chest. 

 

“I got a stolen phone from  _ your _ company, with the app already downloaded. I didn’t make this, I didn’t ask to have access to this place.” Akechi has the upper hand here, and he pushes it. “I just need to know what this place is, what the ‘ _ Dark Hour _ ’ really is.”

 

Ken’s eyes flash with that low simmering heat that Akechi sees in his own expression sometimes, full of anger, full of something that tells Akechi that Ken’s not a new hand at that very sharp blade of his. 

 

“An hour, taken from the day hidden away from the general populace, filled with shadows.” Ken has a tight hand on his spear, the way the lighting falls on his makes it hard for Akechi to see his face. “We made  _ sure  _ the Dark Hour was gone, we fought shadow after shadow, floor after floor, to make sure that our leader’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain.” 

 

A shadow give a death rattle outside, farther away from the dorm than the first one. Koromaru’s taking them out, working his way through them to find help that won’t be there. 

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Akechi demands, _ floors _ ? He’s never had to deal with  _ floors _ before. “Tell me what the Dark Hour is, don’t talk in riddles.” 

 

“The Dark Hour  _ can’t exist _ I’m telling you. We made sure it was destroyed.” Ken’s moving again, downstairs and Akechi follows him down to keep listening, to keep the pressure on to get this story out. 

 

Akechi’s played his hand already, has shown Ken the metaverse now. Akechi needs to get this information, to finally get Ken out of his life. Akechi can’t let Ken continue to be a weakness in his defense, a person that Akechi’s enemies can exploit. Ken’s a person that knows too much, and Akechi can’t let that happen. 

 

Akechi  _ needs _ Ken to tell him  _ everything _ . 

 

There is no second chances here. 

 

“ _ You’re telling me _ ? I’m  _ telling _ you that the Kirijo Group is  _ using  _ you!” Akechi’s voice is rising, trying to be heard above the shadows outside that wail just outside of the building. “They  _ lie _ to you! They tell you that you’ve done a good job, that you’ve finished, but they keep working behind your back! One day you’ll be called in to deal with this app, this Meta-Nav, because it’s gotten out of hand and they need someone to push it back!” 

 

Akechi’s breathing hard now, the two of them are standing at the bottom of the stairs. Too close in the inky green tinted darkness, eyes flashing with fear, with hate, with something that neither of the other can read. Ken’s hand is gripped too tightly on his spear, his body is tense, pulled in on itself. Akechi’s hands are clenched into fists at his sides, his stomach tied up in knots. 

 

Ken’s eyes are just on the side of wet, but Akechi’s not going to stoop so low as to take a cheap shot like that. 

 

“You don’t know  _ anything _ about me.” Ken’s voice bites out, furious. “You think that you know what I went through with S.E.E.S but all you’re doing is seeing your own childhood in mine! I wasn’t being used, I used! I took what they gave me and I was the one who harmed people! I wasn’t being taken advantage of!” 

 

Ken’s free hand clenched hard in his shirt near his heart, pulling the fabric across his chest. 

 

“ _ I _ walked into the team, demanded to be apart of them even though  _ I _ was seven years younger, and  _ I _ was the one who caused Shinjiro-!” 

 

Ken stops talking, looking away, stepping away. He drops the hand from his shirt and takes a ragged breath. 

 

“We’ve had different lives, different childhoods, I’m not in your situation and you are not in mine. Mitsuru knows that what her company did was wrong all those years ago, we lost Shinjiro, we lost our  _ leader.  _ We’re trying to clean up the mess to this day, trying to understand it all.”

 

“I don’t know what has traumatized  _ you _ , I suspect is our father pushed you just a little too far off the edge, but  _ stop _ trying to tell me that I’ve been used when I wasn’t. You’re  _ wrong _ . You’re just pushing what has happened to you onto me and that not any kind of fucking fair-”

 

The glass windows somewhere in the building break, shattering. The screams are louder now, the shadows know that they are here and the things are trying to break in, to tear them apart. 

 

The two boys stand still as the building shakes around them with the scream. Ken’s breaking away, running towards the sound in the upper floors, taking the stairs two at a time. Akechi follows him, cursing. 

 

Ken might be used to using that spear to fight, but Akechi’s not sure if Ken’s able to handle the shadows. Fighting shadows are different than normal brawls, different than choreographed fighting. Shadow’s move like angry liquid, they move like they don’t have anything inside of them and can twist themselves up into impossible shapes to dodge a swipe. 

 

“I know how adults think!” Akechi’s screaming over the sound of the shadow forcing its way into the building. “If you would just tell me what you were doing all that time, instead of just throwing scraps of information at me and hoping that I come up with the correct answer then  _ maybe _ we wouldn’t be arguing all the time!” 

 

The shadow was on the third floor, halfway through the window at the end of the hallway. It had too many arms, holding onto a blue mask with one of its many, many hands. Akechi had never seen a shadow like this before, and he hates it.

 

“Maybe I don’t want to talk about that time of my life?!” Ken screams back, already moving forward to push the shadow back. 

 

Ken’s long spear made it so that he could be nearly two meters away from the shadow and still lash out. Ken embedded the tip of his spear into the eyehole of the mask, flicking his wrist to make the spear  _ twist _ and destroy the mask by ripping the thing in two. 

 

The shadow screamed again, convulsing half in the window and half out. Ken jams the spear into the center mass, over and over until the thing becomes covered in the ashy blackness and crumbles into black ashes. 

 

There’s a silence for only a moment, looking at the remains of the now dead shadow and the shattered windows. 

 

Then the two of them are screaming at each other. 

 

Akechi’s voice is louder, he projects better and it echoes off the walls. He’s screaming about how could he possibly trust someone who won’t talk about their lives, their friends. Akechi’s taller by the barest centimeter, but he tries to use the height he has over his brother the same way his father uses his height against him. It’s a dirty tactic, but Akechi’s never been given anything he didn’t take by force. Akechi doesn't  _ understand _ why the two of them are screaming, yelling,  _ fighting,  _ but fighting is something he knows better than soft words and conflict resolution. 

 

Ken’s voice is softer, but it’s  _ sharper _ in a way that makes Akechi flinch. Ken’s eyes are wild, dangerous in a way that shows a truly broken soul. Ken’s saying things that hit hard, hit fast, with a sharp sting of  _ hurt _ that gets trailed behind. That they don’t need to pry into each other like this, that it’s just so fucking  _ tiring _ to get into fights like this, that Akechi didn’t need to interfere in Ken’s life, that Ken had been taking care of himself since he was eight. 

 

Ken is the one who throws the first punch. 

 

A hard right hook, cracking into Akechi’s nose. Ken feels the way the cartilage under his knuckles give in and hears the  **_snap_ ** _!  _

 

Akechi rears back with a wordless yell, touching his nose carefully as the blood starts to flow over his upper lip. The pain shoots through him at the slightest of presses, and Akechi grits his teeth as he sets the bone back into place. 

 

Akechi retaliates with a swing of his own now, connecting to Ken’s left side. 

 

The two of them go from heated words to fast fists. 

 

Ken takes a blow to his knee, but grabs Akechi’s long hair and yanks his brother into a door frame. 

 

Akechi knows he has a black eye from the frame, but he definitely breaks two of Ken’s fingers when he bends them back all the way. 

 

The two of them fight filthy, grabbing hair and clawing at any skin they could reach. 

 

They both take a tumble down to the second floor. Bruises from the steps are going to show up bright later across their ribs, their legs and arms, but right now Akechi’s _ furious _ in a way he rarely is. 

 

Ken’s spear is thrown further down, to the bottom floor, in the tumble. Ken didn’t want to stab either of them in the mess, so he had tossed his weapon down. 

 

Akechi didn’t know how to use a spear, but the bottom floor has his bag, which has his gun, so if he runs down there he’s going to throw the spear out of Ken’s reach and he’s going to get his own weapon. 

 

Akechi kicks Ken in the ribs as he scrambles upwards, keeping his brother down as he scrambles down to the bottom floor, vaulting over the last few steps and grabbing up the spear that had been dropped. 

 

Akechi can’t use this weapon, and Ken’s coming down the stairs at high speed, already screaming at Akechi to ‘ _ Put that spear down!”.  _

 

If Akechi tried to fight with this Ken would just be able to yank it out of his hands and manage to turn it around. An early lesson in fighting was never try to use a specialized weapon against the person who had been  _ trained _ in that specialized weapon. Spears are hard to use, unwieldy, and they don’t work like the much easier to use swords. 

 

Akechi takes the spear and  _ heffs _ it, throwing it like a javelin in the direction of the kitchen. The spear’s heavy, so it doesn’t roll very far, but it’s far enough that Akechi can make a scramble for his bag. 

 

Ken’s fast, so he’s already snatching his prefered weapon up off the floor. 

 

Akechi’s tearing through his bag, trying to find his gun. It’s at the bottom, hidden in the depths underneath his pajama pants. 

 

The sound of footsteps are too close behind him,  _ fuck-! _

 

Akechi dodges, going low and rolling to the left as the gleaming metal tip of Ken’s spear flies through the space that used to be where Akechi’s side was. 

 

It still catches Akechi’s forearm, as he flails out of the way, Akechi cursing as the blood flies from the skin near his elbow. 

 

The spear  _ also _ impales his bag, and Ken grimaces as he does the same twist motion as he pulled with the shadow, shredding Akechi’s bag and spilling its contents across the floor. 

 

But  _ there! _ A glint of gunmetal flashes as the gun gets yanked across the floor. 

 

“You  _ bitch! _ ” Ken curses as he also tracks the gun as it skids across the floor. “You planned on killing me!” 

 

“Not physically!” Akechi shoots back, diving for the gun. 

 

Ken catches Akechi in the knee and  _ tears _ into Akechi’s joint with that brutal twist as he uses the spear to ground his brother for this fight. 

 

Akechi goes down on his other knee, hissing in pain and falling onto Ken’s backpack that he keeps by the couch. 

 

The tumble makes the contents of Ken’s backpack spill onto the floor, jarred by Akechi’s injured knee. 

 

Books, notepads, a phone charger, and other various items spill across the floor, mixing with the clothes and toiletries from Akechi’s bag. 

 

“You  _ stabbed  _ me!” Akechi holds his knee above the floor, balancing on his hands and uninjured leg. The blood’s smearing all over the floor, onto the destroyed clothing and soaking into the paperbacks. 

 

“You were gonna shot me!” Ken’s kicking through the mess on the floor, looking for something. 

 

Looking for the gun. 

 

Akechi has to find it before his brother does. 

 

The two of them frantically look through the mess, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the shining metal before the other does. 

 

Akechi’s going to have to kill his brother. 

 

Akechi needs to silence a weakness, to keep Ken from slipping the secret that Akechi had figured out who the Phantom Thieves are. Ken was too close, had bypassed the defenses that Akechi usually had pulled up and had made Akechi  _ weak _ . 

 

Made Akechi yearn for conversation, depend on a person. He used to be able to just live by himself, use only himself for strength and support, but now Akechi wants to talk, wants to be soft,  _ wants _ . 

 

He can’t stray from his goal. He can’t let frivolous things get in his way. 

 

Akechi finds a glint of silver and blue and  _ lunges _ . 

 

Ken kicks something heavy away, the metallic sound ringing hard near the kitchen. 

 

Akechi whirls around, priming the gun in his hands and leveling it at Ken’s forehead. 

 

The briefest flicker of thought that this isn’t his gun. This gun has a streak of blue in the handle that presses on his palm awkwardly. The primer is a little different, but it takes no thought to flick the safety off, clicking the cartridge back and loading the bullet in the chamber. 

 

Ken takes the point of his spear and jams it through the back of Akechi’s hand on the floor, pinning his brother’s arm. 

 

Akechi screams, the pain dancing up on his arm and making his nerves light up with  _ pure pain.  _

 

The pain makes it so that Akechi doesn't even  _ think _ , doesn’t even hesitate. 

 

His whole body tenses, the finger resting on the trigger of the gun _ fires _ . 

 

\--

 

The sound is  _ so  _ loud. 

 

The movies always make it so soft, gunshots. 

 

The movies always dampen it, soften the edges and make them survivable to the hero of the story. 

 

In real life, guns are  _ loud _ . They shatter eardrums, they take your breath away. 

 

The smell is disgusting, hot burning black gunpowder that gets stuck in your throat, the hot metal in your hands burning even from just holding the handle. The kickback of holding a pistol in one hand jerks the gun back, giving the shooter a clear shot of who they’ve just killed. 

 

There is no hiding, when Akechi kills a person. 

 

The entrance wound is small, but not noticeable. It’s quarter sized, but if it bleeds it doesn’t bleed a lot compared to the exit. The exit wounds of a gunshot blow away bone and tissue, it's an explosive force applied to a soft human. 

 

Akechi is thankful he doesn't have to clean up his crime scenes. 

 

The first time he put an illegal handgun to a yellowed eyed facade of a human being and pulled the trigger he vomited his lunch, heaved until he was crying, curled up not five feet away from the cooling body.

 

The shadow had twitched, seized as it died excruciatingly slowly and the soft gooey grey insides of it’s head spilled slowly across the floor like thick, viscous  _ mucus _ . 

 

Death wasn’t like how the movies made it. People shit themselves, pee on the floor and bleed more blood then you could ever think came out of one person. Humans are full of so many  _ things _ and it’s so messy when they die. 

 

Akechi still isn’t over the way people collapse on themselves, crumpling into a lifeless pile. 

 

He’ll never look away when he ends a life. 

 

It’s disrespectful, Akechi thinks, to be so  _ above it all _ as to not look at the man who you’ve killed in the eye. 

 

Akechi had never looked away from a kill before. 

 

He’s not going to start with this one. 

 

\--

 

The sound that shatters the otherwise stillness of the air makes the air in Akechi’s lungs quiver. 

 

It’s something different though, not the  **_punch_ ** that hits you after a true gunshot. It’s not softer, not quieter in any regard, but it has a  _ crackling _ effect that reminds Akechi of glass when it breaks into thousands of pieces. 

 

Loki, where the persona sits in Akechi’s chest,  _ slams _ into the rib cage that holds him captive, taking his sharp claws and tearing through Akechi’s soft insides demanding that Akechi needs to  _ run _ . Robin Hood tries to soothe the hurt, the fear, the  _ emotions _ that pour off the other persona in waves but Loki’s screaming out in a wicked rage that will not be tempered. From this, Akechi knows in the back of his mind that something is awfully, terribly wrong. 

 

The wide eyes of Ken stare, unseeing at Akechi’s own. 

 

There is no entrance wound. 

 

Ken’s forehead is clear of any injury, not even the hair that flies around his head is broken. 

 

Akechi’s first thought is  _ relief.  _

 

That his brother is unhurt, uninjured. That Ken is  _ fine _ . 

 

Akechi’s personas tell him to get up, to get away, that there is  _ danger _ here now, unleashed from underneath the skin of a sleeping beast. 

 

Ken’s face is blank, as if his mind is still catching up to the fact that he isn’t dead, that his brain is sill unhurt by the gunshot. 

 

The thing Akechi doesn’t notice, but his personas do, is the distinct feeling of crackling electricity in the air, the sharp bright light haloing Ken’s head. 

 

It’s the  _ scream  _ that catches Akechi’s attention, and he finally looks behind his brothers head. 

 

The thing is  _ huge _ . 

 

It’s main colors are orange and black, and it stands nearly five meters tall. The top of it’s spinning insides crest the ceiling and it has to bend over Ken like it’s a protective guardian. It’s as wide as a van, the torso and shoulders a double helix of spinning, orbiting zodiac. The thing’s legs are sharp, geometric, the ends of them stab through the wooden floors as it’s shifting, moving, scrambling for the space that this living room can’t provide it. The thing’s fingertips just end in claws, making deep gouges as it tears its way upright and stable behind Ken. 

 

It’s  _ screaming. _

 

The thing has no mouth, has no  _ face _ but the sound that’s coming from it makes Akechi’s toes curl, his insides clench in fear. The scream is one of inhuman pain, deep from the insides of a soul that its came from. The sound is deep, almost gagging in its inhuman screams. 

 

The way it moves is the thing of nightmares, it’s geometric limbs flying everywhere with no control or abandon. It’s like looking at limbs that have been broken the wrong way backwards, healed, and then broken again. 

 

Akechi scrambles backwards, desperate to get away from this horror, listening to the way his persona’s screech from his soul, telling him to  _ run. _ His body’s too hurt, he can’t get away from this monster in front of him fast enough, his knee is injured, his hand won’t support his weight.

 

Ken’s still in the center of this  _ thing’s _ rampage, staring unblinkingly at how it rages above him. 

 

“Ken!” Akechi shouts, desperate to get his brother away from the  _ monster  _ that's tearing apart the ceiling above his head.

 

Ken snaps out of it, going from staring up at the destruction above him to focused, the person who had grounded Akechi. Ken takes in the scene in an instant. 

 

Ken calls up to the monster thin above him, shouting words that Akechi can’t hear. The monster takes no notice, continuing to try and claw its way out of the space that it’s trapped in. Ken calls out again, loud enough that Akechi can hear the shouted, screamed words, the desperation in his voice. 

 

“ _ Kala-Nemi!” _

 

That makes it rage  _ harder _ . 

 

The monster tears through the ceiling, finally being able to stand to its full height. 

 

Ken calls out again, reaching out a hand to try and calm the beast, but it’s not listening. The thing,  _ Kala-Nemi? _ , rips more of the ceiling out from above it, creating dust and debris that rains down on Ken, causing him to cry out. 

 

Ken’s running, hauling ass over the couch and screaming at the thing the whole time. Kala-Nemi’s had begun to slam what could be called its head into the walls, the rim of the hole its made in the ceiling growing ever larger breaking apart as the monster tries to beat itself senseless on the edge. 

 

“What the  _ hell!? _ ” Akechi yells as Ken lands heavy near him. 

 

“We got to go!” Ken’s saying, he shoves the spear ( _ the spear that has Akechi’s own blood on it! _ ) into Akechi’s hands and slams his shoulders into Akechi’s waist. Akechi grunts in pain but Ken just  _ picks up _ Akechi into a fireman’s carry, with most of Akechi’s weight being situated on Ken’s shoulders. “Don’t let go!” 

 

Akechi’s not going to let go. Kala-Nemi has begun to fire off electricity, heavy strikes slamming into the floor around them as the whole dorm begins to shake like a leaf. Kala-Nemi’s going to bring this house  _ down _ .

 

Ken doesn't sprint out of the dorm, but it’s a close thing. 

 

“What the  _ hell _ is that?!” Akechi demands as Ken takes off down the street. 

 

Ken grits his teeth, shifting Akechi higher on his shoulders. 

 

“ _ Ken! _ ” Akechi demands. 

 

“That’s Kala-Nemi.” Ken says, low and angry. “He might be a persona.” 

 

Akechi’s brain  _ blanks _ . 

  
“... and Kala-Nemi  _ might _ be out of my control.”


	10. Chapter 10

> **" _The foundation of Justice is good faith"_**

 

“What.” 

 

Akechi’s mind is, for the first time in a while, completely blank, nothing in it besides a high pitched whine of a broken machine. 

 

“How are you not  _ dead _ .” Akechi whispers. 

 

“You’ve clearly never seen an evoker before, have you? Ah, you’re just like when we work with the Investigation Team. Okay. Not a  _ real  _ gun. It didn’t physically hurt me, it’s for real world Persona summoning.” 

 

Akechi’s mind takes another second, he’s looking blankly at the side of his brothers face as Ken steadily jogs through the empty streets. The sky’s still green, the moon sickly and too large watching as the two of them run. 

 

Ken’s clearly panicking, sweating, his grip on Akechi will leave bruises when this is all over, but it's better than Akechi slipping off of Ken’s shoulders or being jostled around. The fireman’s carry hurts, but Akechi would rather put up with the embarrassing carry than be left in the general area of the rampaging persona. 

 

“ _ What. _ ” 

 

Ken huffs, clearly irritated. “Stop being stupid. I know you know what a persona is.” 

 

“I genuinely have no idea what's happening, actually,-  _ ow!  _ Be careful with the  _ knee _ ! - and I would rather not have a repeat of me  _ assuming _ anything.” Akechi’s words are interrupted by the way every step punches the air out of him. 

 

Ken finally stops running, ducking into an empty alley and setting Akechi down against a wall. 

 

The alley is disgusting, and it makes Akechi’s skin  _ crawl _ as the trash around them. It smells like death here, is smells like death everywhere here. Damn. Akechi hates this place, hates everything about this. He wants to just be able to  _ leave _ . Ken crouches near him, sitting on his heels as he’s looking out of the alleyway. Akechi throws the spear that had been held loosely in his grip to the side, not wanting to hold the weapon that crippled him anymore. 

 

“You’re awake.” Ken says, like that explains  _ anything _ , “You’re awake, and not vomiting or crying or, you know, passing out in the street. You knew about the Dark Hour before hand, you have a persona.” 

 

“I didn’t know about the Dark Hour before hand.” Akechi admits, knowing that he’s way out of his league here, the only way he’s walking out of this place alive is if he works with Ken on this. 

 

Ken blinks, tilting his head as he looks down at his brother. “What do you mean? You brought us here-” Ken stops himself, thinking. “This is the same as the TV-World isn’t it?” 

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Akechi pulls out his phone from his back pocket. “I don’t know about the Dark Hour, or the TV world, all I know about this stupid app that can bring you into the Metaverse.” 

 

Ken takes Akechi’s phone, inspecting the powered down device. It’s not turning on.

 

“Metaverse, a new term for an old thing.” Ken sighs, handing the phone back to his brother. “It’s probably connected to the Collective Unconscious.” 

 

The scream of Kala-Nemi echoes through the streets, the screams sound  _ sad _ , echoey and lonely almost sobbing-like in quality as the sound fades. 

 

Ken sighs, rocking back on his heels. “I’m gonna have to beat Kala-Nemi back into submission.” 

 

“He’s your persona?” Akechi’s not going to get over that anytime soon. Sure, he knew that Ken  _ probably _ had a persona based on his assumptions, but getting to see the massive monster spun the whole assumption into a different light. Kala-Nemi was  _ massive _ , larger than anything Akechi had ever seen before. Larger than any shadow, any of the Phantom Thieves persona he's seen them use in the metaverse. Maybe because Ken’s persona was older? Do persona’s  _ grow? _

 

“Holy shit.” Akechi says low to himself. “My personas aren’t killing me.” 

 

Ken’s gaze snaps from looking out of the alley to Akechi’s face. His eyebrows tick up in concern, worry,  _ fear _ . Ken’s hands go from hanging loosely in front of him to suddenly holding onto Akechi’s shoulders. “You- no, oh god  _ no _ .” 

 

Ken pulls Akechi into a hug. 

 

It’s a rough hug, by all accounts. Ken’s holding onto Akechi a little too tight, Akechi is down a hand and can’t really hug back, but the two of them just  _ grip _ onto each other for a moment as best he can. Akechi’s head is in the crook of Ken’s shoulders, and in that moment Akechi feels absurdly  _ safe _ . Safe in the arms of a brother that’s just beat the ever loving shit out of him. 

 

“Your persona isn’t killing you.” Ken whispers, but Akechi doesn’t think Ken’s talking entirely to him. “ _ Your persona isn’t killing you. _ ” 

 

And god damn, that’s something Akechi didn’t know he needed to hear. 

 

Akechi had always just kinda  _ assumed _ that the personas he had were doing something terrible to him, saw the shadows in the metaverse, heard them whisper to ask to join him, please, saw the twisted desires they represent. He just  _ assumed _ that one day he’d do something just a little too stupid, go a little too far, and become one of the thousands of shadows that are just milling around, waiting to tear any visitors to shreds. 

 

Akechi finds that he really needs to stop assuming shit. 

 

The two brothers just hold onto each other for another moment more, before Ken finally lets Akechi slip back down to the floor. 

 

“Your persona isn’t killing you.” Ken promises once again, hands shaking as he visibly tries to pull himself together. “It’s apart of you, a representation of your mind and soul. It’s not harmful, as long as you don’t overtax it.” 

 

Kala-Nemi screams again in the distance, the crumbling sound of concrete was getting closer. 

 

Akechi’s knee is bleeding steadily, he can look down and see the way the blood has soaked down to his socks, the red bleeding into his shoes, onto the filthy ground around them. Akechi’s entire hand is numb, a white blank noise that’ll make him cry when he disinfects the wound later, without the pain blocking properties of adrenaline. 

 

“Why is your persona …” Akechi trails off, listening to Kala-Nemi slam something heavy into the ground near them. Kala-Nemi is screaming, something distinctly inhuman that's the verbal equivalent of peeling off  _ fingernails _ . 

 

“I have a few theories.” Ken says, low. “He was summoned by you, for one.” 

 

“By  _ me _ ?” Akechi asks, wide eyed and tried to connect all the information given to him. There was a decent amount being thrown at him, and most of it was brand new, involving things that didn’t make sense anyway. 

 

“You put a evoker to my head during a fight in which a gun was involved.” Ken says, like it was simple. “Emotions were high, I felt like I was in danger, Kala-Nemi reacted, the evoker did its job and jump started my persona into a high enough gear that Kala-Nemi could be summoned in the real physical world.” 

 

_ That _ statement catches Akechi’s attention. “Summon a persona … in the  _ real _ world?” 

 

“Yes. A feat that takes an incredible amount of energy, only a  _ fraction  _ of which is required to summon in the TV-World, or I guess you call this the metaverse?” 

 

A beat of quiet between the two as Kala-Nemi scream again, he’s on this street, stalking closer the whole time. 

 

“A persona can be sent into a …  _ rage _ ? When you put too much power into it?” Akechi asks, voice as low as he can get it and genuinely surprised, he had never even  _ thought  _ about something like that before. 

 

Both boys yell when Kala-Nemi  _ slams _ into the building Akechi’s using as a backrest. The building shudders, the bricks creaking as the building takes the full brunt of the weight of the  _ huge _ persona. 

 

Ken’s grabbing the spear that lays beside them both, cursing up a storm as the dust and grime shakes off the building and covers the two of them. Ken doesn’t even ask as he  _ yanks _ Akechi up from a sitting position and pulls most of Akechi’s weight as the two of them book it out of there. 

 

The street has been torn up by the rampage, buildings ravaged by claw marks and whole bits of brick having been gouged out. The only color besides the damn  _ green _ of the sky was the bright orange of the huge, hulking persona. 

 

A scream, and all Akechi can see is  _ light _ . 

 

It’s bright, blistering, and it  _ hurts _ in a way that feels like having your soul scrubbed hard and wrung out too tightly. It’s bright and pure and made Akechi want to  _ hurl _ . The light reached inside and burned out all the impurities, not caring that it was cleaning too hard, that the light was too  _ hot _ , too  _ bright. _

 

“ _ Fuck!”  _ Ken screeches, “Damn light attacks!” 

 

Akechi’s still recovering from the attack when that huge persona  _ slams _ a hand down near them, making both boys fall off kilter. 

 

Akechi’s knee makes itself known that it’s not going to be cooperational, and Akechi’s screaming as he tries to take weight off of it. Ken’s calling out for his brother, but he’s already lashing out at his own persona.

 

Ken’s spear is quick, his reach is long enough that Ken could get hits on the joints in Kala-Nemi’s middle, the metal-like material of the persona is a hard thing to break through however. 

 

The spear punctures Kala-Nemi’s hip joint, and the damn thing  _ screams _ and takes a swipe at Ken. 

 

Ken crumples as he gets slammed into the ground, looking so small under the hand of his own persona. 

 

Akechi  _ panics _ , and does the only thing he can think about in this kind of situation. 

 

“ _ Robin Hood!” _ Akechi’s yelling out, reaching out with his injured hand to his brother. 

 

It happens very fast. 

 

Robin Hood is large, much larger than a normal person, but is still a good two or three meters shorter than Kala-Nemi. Robin Hood is bright, colorful, and he’s physically attacking Kala-Nemi, taking the berserking persona down. The two massive monsters are fighting, mindless in the pure  _ instinct _ both of the things are operating on. Kala-Nemi had the size advantage, but Robin Hood was  _ stronger _ by the barest, slightest, hint. Kala-Nemi was  _ faster _ , his metal joints cracking as he moves faster than Robin Hood could possibly keep up with. 

 

The two monsters  _ brawl _ , inhuman sounds, inhuman strength. The two throw  _ everything _ at each other. Lighting cracks up Kala-Nemi’s metal casing, causing Robin Hood seize in pain. Robin Hood throwing bright white blessed lights but Kala-Nemi was just  _ shrugging _ them off. 

 

Akechi’s using his elbows to drag himself to Ken, feeling the loose small gravel underneath his shirt. 

 

Ken’s still breathing. 

 

Akechi reaches his brothers side and shakes him. 

 

Ken opens his eyes, groaning. 

 

The two monsters behind them continue to fight. 

 

“Ken.” Akechi’s shaking is brother even harder. “ _ Ken _ .” 

 

Ken pulls himself up, shaking. He’s clearly in pain, but more mobile than Akechi at the moment. Ken’s arms look unsteady, but he’s getting his feet under him. “I’m okay,” Ken’s voice is weak, and he looks like he’s having trouble getting enough air in him. “I’m gonna be fine.” 

 

Kala-Nemi’s winning the fight between the two personas, he’s bigger, faster,  _ luckier _ with each hit. Robin Hood is putting up a decent enough fight, but Kala-Nemi was simply more experienced, immune to most of the attacks that Robin Hood could throw, had lighting to counter Robin Hood’s resistance to his light attacks. 

 

Robin Hood  _ lost _ , crumpling under the wicked static of a heavy hitting electric spell. 

 

Ken’s up, standing under his own power. 

 

Kala-Nemi’s focusing back on the original targets now, getting ready to charge the two boys in the street. 

 

“Ken we have to  _ go _ .” Akechi’s saying, uninjuried hand gripping onto the hem of Ken’s pants. 

 

Ken stands in front of his brother, holding his spear tightly in his shaking hands. His knees are trembling like a newborn fawns, but his jaw is locked, his eyes burning with a  _ fire _ . 

 

“ _ Ken _ ! We have to  _ leave _ !” Akechi’s frantic now, that persona is going to kill them both stone dead. 

 

Kala-Nemi  _ charges _ . 

 

“ **_Ken_ ** _! _ ” 

 

The persona charges,  _ hurling _ itself at the two, lighting cracking as the large zodiac across its torso spun wildly, the blinding light of its Bless attacks nearly bursting from its bolted seams. It’s claws lunge forward, ready to kill whatever, or whoever, was in his way.  

 

Ken reacted, fast, deadly,  _ accurate.  _

 

It was  _ almost  _ too late. 

 

Kala-Nemi had a spear through its chest, implaling itself with its own weight. Ken’s arms are shaking so badly that Akechi thinks the two of them are going to die by being crushed. The hulking thing above them doesn’t move, still as stone as it slowly creeps down inch by inch on Ken’s weapon. 

 

Akechi learns that personas don’t bleed. They don’t make noises when they’re injured, but the things do dissolve slowly as they die. 

 

Kala-Nemi disappeared with no sound, just fading away until the spear had nothing to hold it up 

but Ken’s shaking hands. 

 

Ken collapses onto the ground next to Akechi, groaning out a sound of wordless pain. The spear clattered down beside him, falling silent after a moment of rattling. 

 

“Fuck this.” Ken whines when he’s fully down. “Just,  _ fuck  _ this.” 

 

“For once, I wholeheartedly agree with you.” Akechi grits out. 

 

Ken’s still trembling as he summons his persona without the use of his gun, the  _ evoker _ . The summon breaks into the world like glass shattering, there is no blur of blue fire that signals Robin Hood or Loki’s existence, but Ken grits out a “ _ Diarahan”.  _

 

The  _ wave _ of relief that washes through Akechi makes blacks spots flash across his eyes. The way his body is  _ forced _ into being fixed with a quick  _ ‘ _ **_snap_ ** ’ makes him grit his teeth and brings tears to his eyes. Akechi can  _ see _ the way his wounds just heal over, the hole in his hand stitching itself closed, the way his knee goes from white hot pain to feeling nothing but perfectly normal. 

 

The spell gets repeated, and Ken’s standing up, looking at his ruined clothing covered in blood, dust, and dirt. 

 

Akechi’s own clothes are a waste of time to try and save, his pants leg is covered in tacky red and he feels the wet  _ squish _ of his blood soaked sock everytime he moves. 

 

“I’m going to kill you.” Ken says, with absolutely no heat in it. “For scaring the  _ shit _ out of me.” 

 

“I’m rather over us trying to kill each other, really.” Akechi says, flexing his hand to try and get the feeling back into it. 

 

“That’s because you know I could kick your ass.” Ken laughs, and scoops back up his dropped spear. 

 

“Truthfully? Yes. I would rather keep the full use of my limbs actually.” Akechi’s just very tired of it all, you really don’t appreciate how often you use your knee until it has a hole in it. He feels Robin Hood weakly curl into Akechi’s lungs, pressing against Akechi’s ribs and whispering  _ please _ ,  _ please don’t fight again _ . 

 

\--

 

Akira curses, feeling the headache build up behind his eyes as Makoto’s starting at the lot of them with wide, timid eyes. 

 

Makoto looks strange surrounded by everyone dressed in thick protective leather and strange costumes while she’s wearing only an approved slight modification on the school’s uniform. She’s looking desperately between the five of them, not knowing who to look at,  _ what _ to look at. The walking ATMs that shuffle around them mumble about money, mumble about giving it to the bank, about being drained dry. 

 

Her eyes finally settle on Morgana, the cat standing near Ann and looking up at Makoto with wide eyes. Morgana’s always happy to chatter with somebody who can understand and hear him, so he’s already talking about a mile a minute. 

 

Akira just makes a motion with his hands, telling his team to get a move on, they have a corrupted heart to steal. 

 

The bank hangs in the sky, oppressive and mighty, but Makoto’s already got her feet back under her and she’s determined to not be useless in this kind of situation. She wants to help, wants to be able to give her aid in something that’s not just the school council. Makoto’s ready and willing to help this strange group of … this strange group. They weren’t  _ technically _ doing anything wrong here, or illegal, but it certainly wasn't the most normal after school club activity. 

 

Makoto notices that the group, the Phantom Thieves, seems  _ happy,  _ though. Sakamoto’s standing tall for the first time since his injury a year ago, Takamak’si not pulled into herself, covering herself with thick hoodies and trying not to make eye contact. Kurusu’s smiling, happy,  _ relaxed _ in a way that he’s not in school. 

 

Makoto’s sure of her decision when she demands the bank to open its doors for her. 

 

She’s going to help these people, and she’s not going to be  _ useless  _ any longer. 

 

\--

 

Ken’s feeling the effects of Kala-Nemi’s rampage (and subsequent two full healings) when the two of them finally get back to the wrecked dorm. 

 

The whole building is done for, most of it crumbled into smaller concrete chunks. The surrounding buildings have heavy damage to them, half of them half crumbled under the weight of Kala-Nemi’s rage. 

 

Ken whistles, loud enough that it bounces off the rubble around them. 

 

“If the dog didn’t hear you before, he’s not going to hear you now.” Akechi says, trying to dig further into the center of the mess to see if any of his things are salvageable from the building having collapsed on the torn apart bag. 

 

“Koromaru always comes back when called.” Ken says, matter of factly. He’s also slowly going through the rubble, but he’s tried and he can feel Kala-Nemi rumble out in his chest, trying to soothe the hurt, the stress, but the persona’s mostly just letting out a low, comforting rumble. 

 

“What if he can’t  _ hear _ you?” Akechi says, looking up from the middle of the ruined dormitory. “He did run off when you asked him too.” . 

 

“Koromaru has the sharpest hearing of any dog I know.” Ken defends his old friend, knowing that the dog has always come when called before, no matter how far he wandered off too. 

 

Akechi rolls his eyes, and gets back to shoving at a particularly large chunk of concrete. 

 

Ken whistles again, louder. 

 

A sharp  _ bark! _ answers him. 

 

Ken smiles, and looks back over his shoulder at his brother. 

 

“Wipe that smirk off your face.” Akechi says, without even bothering to look up at Ken.  “I don’t want to hear about it.” 

 

Koromaru comes hurling at them, little paws scrambling over the broken asphalt. He’s barking up a storm, but his tail’s wagging happily. 

 

The little dog takes a flying  _ leap _ at Ken, Koromaru’s up in Ken’s arms before anyone can blink. Koromaru’s wiggling, licking Ken’s face and making little happy sounds. Koromaru’s happy as can be, nosing his way further into Ken’s embrace. 

 

“ _ Ken-kun! _ ” The sound of Fuuka’s voice echoes through Ken’s head, from the sound of Akechi’s startled sound Fuuka’s latched onto him as well. 

 

“ _ Ken!! Where are you?”  _ Fuuka’s voice sounds really crisp, like she’s close by. It’s got the same quality it does when the team does venture into the TV-World, clearer than anything close to the Dark Hour could pull off but still tinged with just a bit of some kind of interference

 

“By the dorm.” Ken calls, “I’m with Akechi. I’m pretty sure we’re in another offshoot of the Collective Unconscious.” 

 

“ _ I used Koromaru to track you.”  _ Fuuka explains. “ _ I felt him around, when I couldn’t see him. I followed him, and found you two.”  _

 

“Can you see anyway out?” Ken asks, petting Koromaru underneath the collar as he holds the dog like a small child against his chest. 

 

“ _ I’ve contacted Mitsuru and Akihiko, they’re looking into it right now.”  _

 

Ken sighs putting Koromaru gently back down on the ground, the dog was an old boy after all, you had to be careful with him. Koromaru’s appreciative of the gentle handling and petting, he leans against Ken’s legs, proud of his job well done. 

 

“We might have to wait an hour, right?” Akechi says, casually from where he’s digging into the rubble. 

 

Ken’s hand stops from where he’s reached down to pet the dog sat between his feet. “Oh?” 

 

Ken tries to see Akechi over the concrete between them, but the only thing of Akechi’s that can be seen is the dirty shirt that covers his back. 

 

“You said that this place looked like your Dark  _ Hour _ right?” Akechi finally pops his head up from the hole that he was shifting further down into. “So if it’s connected to that in anyway, it might be from the hour time limit, right?” 

 

“That’s an idea we can try.” Ken agrees, pulling up his sleeve to check out his watch. The large silver watch was a gift from Akihiko for his twelfth birthday, a constant weight on his right wrist and a valuable tool when you were working and couldn’t check your phone for the time. The watch ran without electricity, an automatic watch, and in the world were electronics traditionally didn’t work the timepiece ran fine.  

 

They had came in right after dinner, but had wasted a decent amount of time fighting each other, then running from Kala-Nemi. Ken does some mental math really quickly, because he knows about the time they had started eating, but didn’t check after that. 

 

“We have about twenty minutes left in the hour then.” Ken decides. 

 

Akechi nods, and goes back to looking for his lost belongings. 

 

Ken’s given up on his own belongings underneath the building, four floors had fallen into the living room and had scattered a mess across the street. He was worried about one thing, however. 

 

“Goro-nii, this isn’t  _ actually _ going to effect the building in the real world is it?”  Ken asks, mostly looking down at the rubble that used to be his front door. “Because I don’t actually have a house to sleep if this somehow transfers over.” 

 

“It shouldn’t?” Akechi calls, “Nothing I’ve done so far has affected the real world.” 

 

“We are going to talk about this whole ‘you having a persona’ business when we get out of here, right?” Ken does now reach down and scratch Koromaru underneath the bulky evoker collar. “I’m going to report it to Mitsuru, and we’re going to have to, like, check up on you and grill you about this app.” 

 

“Let’s not.” Akechi says back, almost low enough that Ken could barely hear him. 

 

“ _ We are going to bring you in to look over you. _ ” Fuuka’s voice echoes in their heads, soft as ever. “ _ We do investigate into anything that involves personas.”  _

 

The rest of the twenty minutes goes rather quietly, Ken resting with Koromaru sitting on his feet and Akechi trying to find something. 

 

Without the immediate presence of a threat, Ken could actually  _ feel _ the difference in this strange offshoot of the collective unconscious and what he could remember of the Dark Hour. 

 

The Dark Hour didn’t have the same stagnant air as this place did, what did Akechi call this? The Metaverse? This place was very similar to the Dark Hour, but the more Ken looked around the less sure he was that this was actually the place he had lost his mother too. The place was suspiciously empty of coffins, and it wasn’t midnight. There was no blood that covered the ground, just dry as the ground in the real world was, no puddles of thick half congealed blood that Ken had to avoid slipping on when he was younger. 

 

This place was a very good replica, but Ken could see that shadow’s only lingered in the distance, away from the three persona users as if wary of them. There was no heavy, oppressive darkness that was a struggle to breathe through. Here he could  _ see _ , there was no fog hanging at the corners, waiting to consume your vision and get you lost here. 

 

There was no  _ Tartarus.  _

 

Ken’s shocked to realize that. The direction of the school holds no mighty tower. There’s not a great monolith that ascends into the sky, no shining lights that scan the streets looking for people running for their lives. The building that Ken had been so used to gazing at during those years that the Dark Hour ran was just not there in the night sky. 

 

“ _ Finally _ !” Akechi says, climbing out of the holes that he had dug trying to find his things. 

 

Akechi’s covered in dust, dirt, and blood, but he’s smirking. He’s clearly exhausted, but he’s content with what he’s managed to pull from the mess. 

 

It’s his gun. 

 

“You’re not going to shoot me again, are you?” Ken drawls, but his heart starts to ram into overtime, he’s not in the  _ mood _ for another fight, nor is he in any state for it. 

 

Akechi scoffs, and puts the gun into his waistband after checking the amount of ammo the gun has, sliding out the magazine, and then flicking the safety on and putting the gun into his waistband. “No, I’ve seen how well  _ that _ turns out.” 

 

Ken’s heart still beats heavy in his chest, a scuttaco rhythm that makes Kala-Nemo wary enough to tighten its grip, lace its long claws through the gaps in Ken’s ribs. Ken’s not going to ever fully trust Akechi, not when the memory of his brother’s face when he pressed the gun against his head is still fresh in his mind at any rate. 

 

But Ken laughs anyway, laughs because he’s trained himself to be a ‘normal’ enough teenager, laughs because Akechi’s trying to break the thick tension hanging in the air by saying something, anything. 

 

Akechi shot his brother through the forehead. 

 

Ken had torn the tendons in Akechi’s knee so badly that he wouldn’t have been able to walk again, sliced through his hand with the mentality to maim. 

 

The two of them are messed up,  _ fucked _ up beyond repair. 

 

The two of them sit on the destroyed front step of the dorm, the spear that’s still covered in Akechi’s blood laid flat in front of them. Koromaru is sitting between them, head resting on his paws. The brothers bask in the light of the green moon, listening to a city that was empty and keeping a wary lookout for anymore shadows that had the audacity to try and attack them. 

 

Akechi’s phone hangs uselessly in his loose grip. 

 

The two brothers simply  _ exist _ together for a moment in time. 

 

It’s half a surprise when the phone comes back on, lighting up with power. Akechi certainly is happy is theory holds, holding his phone so both boys can see it. 

 

The phone’s app is the first thing that pops up, before it  _ flickers _ , hard. 

 

The app’s screen goes black, before a popup notification chimes happily between them. 

 

‘ _ MetaNav Error: Location Time Limited. Force Eject.’  _

 

_ — _

 

Fuuka stands on the porch of her old dorms. Everyone else is inside, talking about worst case scenarios. 

 

Her nerves are already shaky enough, damn it. She’s not going to think about what she’ll have to do if those children are stuck in the Dark Hour. She’s the only one who can contact them, Mitsuru’s tried, more than once, without success. 

 

Fuuka desperately wants a cigarette, but she gave those up six months ago and she’s been doing so damn  _ well _ . 

 

Her job is stressful enough, testing high end robotics at the hospital during complicated surgeries for hours on end, she doesn’t need anything more pressing against her frayed nerves. She’s not fond of going into the TV-world, was less fond of the Dark Hour, but she already knows she’ll travel hell and high water to help her team. 

 

They’re not losing another member to the Dark Hour. 

 

For as much as Fuuka loves the members of the Inaba persona users she always had a deep rooted secret  _ hatred _ of how things had turned out. She hates herself for thinking it, but she sometimes sits up at night thinking about how  _ unfair  _ it was that S.E.E.S had lost two members, two  _ children _ , while the Inaba team had made it out with no casualties. 

 

She knows that it’s a terrible thought. An awful thought from an awful, spiteful woman, but she just can’t help it sometimes. Fuuka has a therapist she tells all this too, and the very nice woman tells her that she might have survivor's guilt, that from her experience she might have a skewed sense of protective instincts. 

 

Fuuka just smiles warily, and accepts the fact that from her fucked up soul her persona latches onto the heartbeats of her friends and will never let them go quiet in her soul. 

 

She feels Ken’s right now, how  _ alive _ he is. His young heart beats quickly, the persona sitting under his skin feeling light bright white light and white hot electric currents. Kala-Nemi is large in ways other than size, his presence is usually easy to find when Fuuka looks for him. The persona screams at them all to ‘ _ please look at me! Pay attention, please! _ `` with every bit of desperation Fuuka had seen in Ken when they had first met. 

 

Everyone’s persona was just an embodiment of themselves, at their deepest, most base desire. 

 

Rise had once said to Fuuka that it takes a certain kind of person to be a navigator, to have a persona that has no ability to protect yourself,  but to protect others, to investigate and look forward at the expense of yourself. 

 

So Fuuka reaches out, her persona reaching through whatever’s in its way, looking around, through, invading people’s space and trying to figure out how people  _ tick _ . 

 

When they had first met, Fuuka knew that Ken’s brother was injured, badly, and that he had something bubbling just under his soul, ready to be unleashed into something  _ more _ . 

 

But Fuuka had just written it off as having the  _ potential _ to have a persona. 

 

Plenty of people had the potential to wield a persona, had the power to summon something right underneath their hearts. Fuuka met at least ten people a day in the hospital that had some kind of power in their chest, ready and waiting. 

 

Most people would never use that power, so Fuuka had just assumed that Ken’s brother had the  _ potential _ , but would never get the opportunity to use it. 

 

Now she searches harder, digging into that low simmering of power she can feel from Akechi and  _ yanking _ until her persona can hold the information close. Fuuka is over her tentative first year of having a persona, ever so careful about trying to pry and gain information, now she simply  _ takes _ with no mind

 

Something’s wrong, with the power in Akechi, something deep in him is broken, leaking out power when it should be freely flowing. It’s clogged up with something, sickly and disgusting to feel around. It was like the power had been cut off because the outlet had swollen up and closed off. Fuuka could  _ feel _ how Akechi had accessed his power now, going through the infected outer layer with a tearing force and not caring about trying to clean up afterwards. 

 

It was like Akechi was constantly picking at a scabbed over wound, making it worse with every summon. 

 

It was similar to how  _ Shinjiro  _ felt, those first few months Fuuka had known him. 

 

Fuuka  _ really _ wants that cigarette. 

 

She’s focused so hard to trying to diagnose the problem that the soft sound of buzzing doesn’t actually alert her. 

 

It’s only when the shape of Ken’s hair becomes more solid on the stoop in front of her when Fuuka’s attention is snapped back to the real world. 

 

Her call of “ _ Ken! _ ” is loud enough that the people inside can hear her, and distantly she hears the comotion of them standing up to come to her aid. 

 

The three on the porch take a half a second, but they  _ do  _ fade back into existence in front of her eyes. 

 

Fuuka wrapped her arms around both boys, pulling them to her. She’s shaking, hands carefully positioned on the back of their heads to press them into her shoulders. Her anxiety calmes all at once, having them here with her. 

 

Ken tenses, not expecting the hug, but melts into it anyway. 

 

Akechi stays tense, only fractionally relaxing into the hold of a woman he’s met once before. 

 

Koromaru’s barking, wagging his tail where he’s squished between them all. .

 

The door behind them opens, a decent amount of people’s voices coming from the inside. Fuuka can hear S.E.E.S, talking over themselves, a few scattered members of the Inaba persona users. 

 

It’s Mitsuru’s who’s leading the charge however, her red hair flying with the force of her action. 

 

She sees the boy’s in Fuuka’s tight grip, the way their hair is wild, tangled messes, the blood that coats their clothing, the dirt and dust that covers them. Mitsuru can see the exhaustion that the two are suffering from. 

 

She sighs, hating to have to do this but having to do it anyway. 

  
“We’re going to bring you both into Kirijo Group for overnight monitoring.” Mitsuru says, tone leaving  _ no _ room for arguments. “We need to hear, and learn,  _ everything  _ about this new offshoot of the Collective Unconscious.”

**Author's Note:**

> takes out gitaur and strums, I'm in hell everyone get ready to ride this ride with me.


End file.
